Brothers
by artiluna55
Summary: Nothing should be able to come between the unbreakable bond of brothers, but life can get in the way of any relationship. Canada and America aren't as close as they once were. Life has led them in different directions. When a dooming message arrives from the future, they'll have a second chance to fix their relationship or have it destroyed forever.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A is for America! And Alfred

Chapter Text

Brother

Authors note: This was originally an RP (role play) between Artiluna55 (or Artinthedark) and myself. As such, the story doesn't quite read in the usual flow of some of my other works, or Artiluna's for that matter. Please keep that in mind as you work your way through. Also, the first few chapters deal with the recently passed presidential election in America. (2004) We tried to keep it rather light-hearted and unbiased, but if we ended up stepping on anyone's political toes, well, oh well. Thirdly, anyone who's interested in romance won't find much here. The only pairing we have is Canada and Prussia, and the story is not descriptive of their relations. Our plot is much more revolved around the theme of a looming threat of WWIII and how the countries handle said threat. Last but not least, we felt the need to add a brief disclaimer, mainly for the CIA because there's a lot of talk in here about things like blowing up Canada and America and the possibility of WWIII, etc. So, officially: CIA, this is a fanfiction based on an anime series. Anything written here is NOT meant to be taken seriously. Thank you.  
As always, dedicated readers, I'm glad to be back in the game again. Please enjoy!

~Spotofpaint

Chapter 1  
A is for America!  
And Alfred!

Alfred reached for the phone. His hand trembled just a bit. Although it was true that he went through every four years for hundreds of years, he reminded himself, it never made it any easier. He was always in conflict and could never seem to choose a side until that first week in November. It would pass, he knew, but for the meantime it was sometimes nice to unload on someone. Someone who it might be a little funny to torment...just a bit. It would at least relieve some of the tension he'd been feeling. And so, he picked up his cell phone (it was the newest version of the iphone of course, with a ton of apps, and a touch screen and it was smart!) And he called the one person he really could (Other than Matt, who would just bum him out with all his talk about his political set up and how it was better than America's.)  
Putting it to his ear, he heard it ring, once, twice, and then someone on the other end picked up.  
"Hello?"  
"Yo! Arthur! Wassup?"

Oh great, Britain thought to himself.  
"I am a little busy right now, America."  
He shuffled through some papers on his desk as he tried to put the document he was currently reading back in proper order. With America's elections coming up he had been given report after report after report to read and study. The old island nation had read on both of the candidates and there were plans according to whatever the American populous decided.  
Still it was a bloody amount of paper work that had been put on his plate. As such he felt a bit of agitation towards said former colony. Why couldn't he have a king or hold elections further apart, buggar! Everyone was waiting for the decision to be made. Russia was particularly on edge as of late waiting for the decision. He sighed pulling himself from his thoughts and back to the phone conversation,  
"Did you need something?"

"Need something? Can't I just call an old friend during a time of turbulence? Is that so much to ask? I mean, I won't even ask you if you think I should increase taxes to alleviate the HUGE hole in my wallet. Or maybe I should fill that hole by eliminating programs, like food stamps, but then I'd have a hole in my stomach too. But don't worry Arty, I won't ask you about any of that. Because I can TOTALLY make up my mind all on my own! HAHAHA!"

As maniacal laughter erupted from his phone Britain found himself quickly pulling the phone away from his ear. He stared at the black phone in his hand and rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten all about this. How had he forgotten? That was unclear. The workload must have gotten to him.  
"America..." he said in an exasperated tone. The git was having his 4 year PMS. Britain thought to himself, "Are you all right?"

"Totally A-OK. Except sometimes I want to murder Mexico. And other times I want to make sweet love to her. I'm really confused about that actually. But I think it's OK, because sometimes she gives me pot, and then I settle right down."

Britain raised his hand to the bridge of his nose and tried to massage out the tension there. His thick eyebrows were furrowing.  
"You're not on pot right now, are you?" He put the document he'd been working with back on his desk. He leaned back in his desk chair. Britain's full attention turned to his former colony.  
America didn't need anything else in his system. He already sounded like a raving loon. He looked at his desk calendar. There was only a short time until the election. If he recalled this would keep getting worse.  
"Have you been taking care of yourself, Alfred?" There was something the aggravating twit had never been able to do very well, "When's the last time you slept?"

"Slept? Dude, you should know I have no time for that right now. My boss has got me running ragged for this election. I'm campaigning for both sides you know. Here in America, we throw endless parties as an excuse to fund raise and milk every dime we can from all the rich campaign backers. The foods awesome though. I just kinda wish everyone would stop fighting..." A heavy sigh came from the other end of the line. "Parties are a lot more fun when it doesn't end with the cops being called."

"Listen. You get strung out like this every four years. You should know by now that you have to take it easy during this time. You have been independent for 227 years now. You have had more than one election. You should have learned how to take care of yourself in all that time! Take it easy around election days. Call in sick and relax at home before you exhaust yourself."  
Blimey, is he really that young? Britain had to remind himself. Just saying that out loud made Britain feel like some ancient dinosaur.  
Then Britain had to think to himself, was he lecturing the young chap? True, he loved to lecture the young country in every topic from his independence to his rancid food, but PMS America really was not one to be lectured. Britain knew that as well. He's having a mid-election crisis and you have to rant, but I cannot think of one supportive thing to say. Buggar. Maybe that was poor parenting on his part. Then it hit him,  
"When is the last time you ate? McDonald's is open all night, right? Go get one of those retched burgers you love so much! It will take your mind off of this election. Get one of those ice cream concoctions as well."

"Oooo! That's a great idea! All the fast food chains here are getting all their holiday flavors out! If I head to Starbucks, I can choose between all the fall flavors, like pumpkin, OR I could get the Christmas flavors, like peppermint! Oh my God! I could mix the two drinks together and have peppermint pumpkin!"  
But despite the excitement America was portraying, eating was never something he neglected. He ate when he was happy, sad, partying, or watching a football game. And during elections, a lot of eating occurred during arguments. In fact, a lot of groups of friends or even families would go out to dinner with the intention of having a good time and instead end up fighting with one another over their beliefs and viewpoints of the different candidates.  
But America hadn't called Britain to get even more depressed or wound up over things. He'd called to let off steam. So it made more sense to just pretend that things were a little better off than they were.  
It was true he'd been through lots of elections before, this would be his 56th, but he never saw a way of making it any easier. People got worked up every single time. As a result, he himself got worked up too. It was very stressful, especially not knowing who his new boss would be or really what to believe. There were always a lot of important topics and decisions to make about the direction he'd be heading in the future. All the same, he always reminded himself, each and every time that if things didn't work out, he'd have a new boss in another 4 years anyway. But...things did always seem ok after the first week of November. He'd just have to stick it out, like a cold.  
There's no way I'll be able to rest like Britain, he thought. The people are too wound-up over here. Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to sleep. But there was no way he'd be telling Britain that.  
"Dude, I'm going to go do just that. A burger'll fix me right up!" He said. And then, before Arthur could object, he hung up.

Britain's chance to retort was cut short when America hung up the phone. The ring tone cut through the silent office, and the sound reminded Britain that his former colony was off, high strung, PMSing, raving mad, and... loose in the general population.  
True America had never gotten into any real trouble, but Britain found himself worrying. The last thing he needed was a late night call that the young man had gotten into some bar fight over political view points with one of his crazy citizens overusing their first amendment rights or something. America could get carried away at times.  
Britain placed the phone back in its cradle and placed his elbows on the desk. Bloody hell. America was loose upon the world. Britain probably should have encouraged the youth to stay at home until his emotions came back under control. Britain's eyes widened in horror when he thought of the PMSing nation driving to the McDonald's. By God! What if he took his motorcycle and crashed it from sleep deprivation?  
Arthur reached out snagging the phone back up. This just wouldn't do at all.

Luckily for Alfred, he didn't need to head to another rally for several days. Which was great, because he was still feeling very confused. During one moment, he was a gun toting, boarder protecting republican, then for the next, he was an entitlement program and gay rights activist democrat.  
Oh my God! I won't be able to make up my mind until the people elect someone! GRAH! I'm going crazy! Deciding it would be best to get outside and get some fresh air after all, America raced out of the white house before he was expected to do anymore campaigning. It was just impossible to expect a country to make up his mind when the population was so divided!  
I'll just head to a nice, normal place. One that doesn't support or oppose any of the hot button topics that have been flying around these days. Of course, that eliminated half of the fast food chains and restaurants around. Even companies had something to say about politics in the modern age. It was actually, rather ridiculous.  
"Wait! I know a place that's neutral! Bars!" That was right. Following all the political propaganda and smear ads that were all over TV, were a third type of ad supporting alcohol as a substitution to picking either side. Alfred wasn't a total moron (even if he could act it sometimes) he knew that picking an alcoholic beverage over a candidate was just idiotic, but the ads had an underlying message that spoke to a lot of Americans who were simply sick of all the disagreements.  
Arthur's right, I just need to relax for a little while. Maybe shoot some pool. And so, Alfred headed straight to the nearest local bar with a pool hall.

Britain had managed to work a few more minutes, but eventually Britain had phoned Canada. His gut was nagging at him. He wanted someone to watch Alfred, and help take his mind off of the election. Since he lived across the Atlantic it would take hours for him to get to America. It really was not plausible, considering the amount of work he had. He could not blow off so much work just on a whim. He was a nation. He was still cleaning up foreign affairs and dealing with the media and the possible pregnancy of the new princess there was too much work to do here. He couldn't go. Not unless Alfred got into serious trouble.  
Besides, he reassured himself. Its not the first time Matthew has watched his older brother during a tumultuous time. Matthew had helped Alfred through a civil war (which Britain was ashamed to admit he had helped prolong and had not once visited the boy during despite how sick he'd been), a great depression (he had been there for that one, but it was hard to visit or stay long because of America's policies at the time), and two national crisis's (he hadn't been able to get to America's side for pearl harbor because of the war and his own countries issues, but he had come immediately to help for Sept. 11). Matthew was always the first one at his brother's side because they were in driving distance of each other.  
Briatin was starting to feel a bit depressed. Maybe he should visit the young whippersnapper. He wrapped the desk phone cord around his finger as he dialed. He had been told more than once to update the old, archaic device, but he liked this phone. Damn. Why is it taking so long for Matthew to pick up?  
Matthew's voice finally answered, but Britain recognized the quiet recording, "You've reached Matthew Willams. Sorry I'm not here right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back soon. Papa. S'il vous plaît arrêter de me dire qui je dois ce jour." Beep (Papa. Please stop suggesting to me who I should date.)  
Double damn. Britain slammed the phone down. He pushed his thoughts aside and went back to work. America will be fine.

~Meanwhile~

The people were gathered in the bar. Many of them trying to escape the craziness of the outside world. Bikers lined stools and smoke filled the room. Groups played pool. The TV blared useless information that no one paid attention to. A few people turned when the 19 year old walked in. They were surprised to see a 'kid' in the bar.

America kicked in the door of the local bar (not to be destructive mind you, but to be dramatic!) And being who he was, he was well-known by a lot of American's, although not all of them. Almost right away he was greeted by several people.  
"Hey kid! How's the election trail treating ya?" Spoke up a young man by the bar.  
"I dunno Dan, he don't look too good to me?"  
"You tired Alfred?" America moved further inside, heading to the group of young men by the bar. The tender was wiping up a small spill down near the other end, but lifted his eyes as Alfred approached. Almost immediately America smiled, after all, was there ever a time when he wasn't smiling?  
"I'm just fine guys! Nothing a drink and a game of pool won't fix. How about it? Who's up for some fun?"  
"Alfred," the bar tender frowned. "I've told you before, you're too young to drink."  
"Eh? Has that stopped me before?" The bar tender placed a glass down on the counter a bit more harshly than necessary, his thick eyebrows lowering.  
"If I catch you sneaking drinks I'll have you arrested this time. I'm sick of your games. Now, how would that affect the elections huh? Some bad publicity?"  
"Dude!" Alfred raised his hands, waving defensively. "Chill out man. I came here to unwind."  
"Bar tender," one of the men said. "Give the kid a break. He's under a lot more stress than you or me. He's technically not allowed to even pick a side. And then when the elections over, he pretty much just has to agree with the new president, regardless."  
"Cry me a river," the bar tender grumbled. "I don't care what he's going through he ain't getting a drink in MY bar."  
"Ok, ok, sheesh. Can I at least shoot some pool? Is that illegal too?"  
"No. But I can think of some other things that should be illegal but aren't. Why aren't you doing more in Washington about gun control Alfred? Hm? My little girl was gunned down in a broad daylight!"  
Alfred felt his heart kick into high gear. This was the exact thing he'd been trying to avoid. Everyone had a personal stake in one matter or another, and a touchy subject like gun control was not what he had in mind when he stepped into the bar.  
"Watch it bar tender!" One of the men sitting in the stools said, a sour look over coming his face. "If we were allowed to have more guns, maybe someone would have shot that killer before he could hurt someone."  
The bar tender's eyes bulged in disbelief.  
"What did you say?"  
"You heard me!"  
"Alfred! You hear this guy? You represent our great country! You set this asshole straight!"  
"Well that's too bad, because Alfred's on my side! Aren't you kid?" Now everyone in the bar was staring, and poor Alfred's feet had gone cold. Breaking out into a sweat he struggled to maintain some sort of balance. Swallowing harshly, he looked around at all the faces around him. Then his eyes turned to the open beer that one of the men left carelessly on the bar top. Without even a seconds hesitation he dove for it.  
"I choose the fifth!" He cried then grabbed up the freshly opened can and just began guzzling it down.  
"HEY!"  
"That was my beer you son of a bitch!"  
"I told you not to drink in MY bar!" Alfred may not have been as good of a drinker as say Germany or Prussia, but he was decent enough. He finished the beer just before its owners fist punched it right out of his hand. Rather calmly, and not really reacting to the angry faces around him he let out a snort.  
"I guess I need another please."  
"You're dead meat Alfred."

Suddenly, there was exciting clapping from the doorway of the bar, "Kekekeke! Ze awesome me has to zee this! Birdie! Please! Can we watch? He will get his ass kicked!" A certain albino had a gleam in his red eyes as he strolled into the bar with his friend. "Then we can go find a real bar! We can go back to mine bruder's place!"  
Britain had called Canada's phone so many times in the last few hours he was sure the satellites in space were still trying to play catch up. The island nation had bugged him so much about his brother that Canada had turned his phone off some time ago after he'd assured Britain that he would find Alfred. Luckily, Canada had a sixth sense when it came to America. Canada had never had a hard time locating his brother. Probably because even though they were different, they were still connected and close. It must have been part of being a twin or something like that or maybe geography?  
Canada studied Alfred up and down. Other than seeming a bit confused, he looked ok. At least Canada had made it before any fighting broke out in the bar.  
Matthew had really let time get away with him the last few days. He usually tried to keep a closer eye on his brother during election time. Canada had been so busy with work, and a surprise visit from a certain Prussian had completely blown any thought of America's election right out of his mind.  
Luckily people in the bar were distracted from pummeling Alfred by the arrival of the two new nations. It was Prussia who was attracting the attention of the bar. He was an albino after all so he did look different. Not to mention the former nation had a specific aura about him that no one could miss.  
"Ke? Let's go back to my bruder's place, birdie! America can get drinks there with ze awesome me!" He looked back at America with a cocky grin on his face, "You canz have real beer zere. Not this unawesome stuff here!"  
Matthew shot a sideways frown at Prussia,  
"Can you please stop calling me Birdie!" It was a familiar request. He'd been asking Prussia that question for the past two days so he wouldn't be surprised when Prussia kept using the ridiculous nickname.  
He quickly turned his attention back to his brother. Matthew walked through the bar and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. Then he looked around the bar at all the angry people occupying the area.  
"Al…. Let's go back to your house." He said in his quiet tone. He didn't want to be caught in a bar fight. This was ridiculous. "I can pay for whatever he drank. In fact I can buy everyone a drink if everyone can settle down. I'll take my brother home." The soft spoken nation didn't seem like a threat at all and luckily the people of the bar seemed appeased.  
"Oh! The awesome me loves that idea, Birdie! Beer is almost as awezome as me! Even if zis American stuff is for Schwächlinge (weaklings)." Prussia happily responded to Matthew's offer by heading to the bar for a drink. Matthew rolled his eyes as his friend sat down at the bar,  
"Gilbert! Are you going to walk to Alfred's house? We have to go. You can drink later." That got a frown on the albino's face, "Totally unawesome, birdie!" He got up and went to walk back towards the North America brothers. Prussia stared at America with a firm frown, "How'z it going, loser? Your daddy called uz to come get you."

Alfred was pretty glad to see Canada, he could definitely use some company, but was fairly UN-glad to see Prussia. And due to all the stress he'd been under the UN-gladness completely outweighed the glad…gladness. Immediately woes about gun control, abortion, gay rights, and the Mexican border disappeared as he laid his blue eyes on the albino invader. Immediately, Alfred marched away from the bar and instead toward Gilbert.  
"Dude…what the hell is this trash doing on MY soil!?" He demanded. He whipped his glare around to Matt, eyes gleaming. "Did you bring him hear?" But before Matt had a chance to answer, he was already facing Prussia once more. "What was that about American beer? That sounded like a challenge to me, and I don't back down from challenges, no matter how ridiculous they may be! You wanna go? How about a drinking contest, man?"  
"Alfred!" The bar tender suddenly hollered. "How many times do I got to tell you, you're 19! You're going to get me arrested!" America, of course, completely ignored the man. He was wound up from stress, and he needed a release somewhere. If he couldn't get a drink or play pool, well, then a fight wasn't sounding so bad, especially if he got to sock Prussia one right in the face.  
"I'm NOT in the mood Gil! I'm this close to saying to HELL with diplomacy! I know you think you're awesome, but America is even MORE awesome! And if you want to tango, well…I've got a republican in me that's just itching to come out!" America was looking just a tad unhinged at that point, and it became evident, even to Prussia that perhaps the stress was finally getting to him. His right eye started twitching.

The Teutonic knight in Prussia was always ready for a fight. The albino had never been one to back down, ever. His pride wouldn't allow a challenge to go unanswered. Especially when beer was involved,  
"Ze awzome me willz take you anytime, kid! You seem to be too little to drinkz in your home. Why not come to mine home? I'll show you real beer!" He let out one of his unique laughs and jibed, "I was drinking beer before you were a thought! I will take Canada's bruder anytime!" He let out a short laugh. Prussia smirked as his red eyes narrowed in anticipation of Alfred's response.  
Off behind Alfred, Matthew could tell this conversation was going downhill fast. He wasn't particularly pleased with either Prussia or America at the moment, but he was trying not to be upset with his brother. Alfred always had 'issues' around election days, and, of course, America would be shocked at finding Prussia in his homeland. The two of them were far from friends.  
And then there was another small matter…. Matthew had yet to tell any of his family members that he was pretty good friends with the former nation. He had met Prussia at one of the world meetings a while ago.  
Matthew also hadn't told his family that for the past year Prussia routinely showed up at his home in Ottawa demanding homemade pancakes and maple syrup. He also hadn't mentioned that Prussia would stay in the guest room for days on end... Nope, especially didn't tell them that. So of course finding Prussia standing in a bar on his home soil would be strange for Alfred. Matthew had tried to get Gilbert to leave for Germany at the beginning of this debacle, but Gilbert had refused. Being in a rush Canada had just brought him along.  
Matthew was also concerned about another thing in this situation. Matthew didn't need his overprotective brother meddling in his foreign affairs or worse trying to protect him in this matter. An overprotective America was an unhinged America, and he knew that Alfred would be worried sick if he found out his calm, gentle, and subservient 'little' brother had Prussia of all nations staying at his house about... how often was it? At least once a month? Alfred tended to forget that Canada could handle himself.  
Matthew knew most every nation found Prussia loud mouthed, agitating, mean, at times unstable, and other times downright dangerous. Prussia didn't have the best history after all. How many times had the former nation 'invaded a nations private regions?' Isn't that what papa France said at one of the former world meetings?  
Yeah. Matthew thought to himself, How do you break that to your over protective brother? The self proclaimed hero would have a hissy fit. Hey Alfred, you know what they say about Prussia, eh? We're really good friends now! He's staying at my place!  
It wasn't only Alfred though. He hadn't told Britain or France about Prussia either. The rest of the world also found Canada quiet, meek, invisible, and they had mostly seemed to have forgotten that he was able to fight and protect himself if he needed to. He could fight. He just didn't find the need to fight all that often. Hell the rest of the world routinely forgot he existed, but the loud, foul mouthed albino never had. He'd also never confused Canada with America. That was something that even Matthew's two fathers messed up sometimes.  
Matthew was worried that his family would misconstrue his friendship with Prussia. He could easily see his family accusing the Albino of bullying him into something, and that was far from the true circumstances. If Britain, America, and France thought Prussia was giving him grief then that could spell trouble for Germany too. Not wanting to deal with the fall out, Matthew had kept the friendship to himself.  
Now Prussia was here. So how could he make this work to his favor? He was in the middle of thinking out a plan when Prussia opened his mouth.  
Gilbert was completely unaware that Canada was hiding their friendship from America. As such Gilbert blurted out, "Ze awezome me does not want to be here, wiz the unawsome you! I should be at your Bruder's house having mine way. The awesome me likes Birdie's house. I would be making Birdie cook pancakes! If it werez not for you, kid!" Prussia crossed his arms over his chest in huff.  
Well… there went that cover. Matthew's eyes rolled. Gilbert couldn't have phrased that sentence and made it sound any worse than it did. I just had my Canadian slave make me pancakes, and I get my way at his home. Matthew's anger flared,  
"DAMNIT GILBERT!" Even at a full scream Matthew's voice was still small and barely carried through the bar.

At first, for a few seconds it seemed, America didn't move. He stood in something close to shock. "You…h…having your way?" His face tensed, a quick snarl came over his lips. His fingers curled. But despite that, for a brief moment, it looked like he was actually trying to control himself. Glancing to the side, he concentrated on his breathing. And for just a second it appeared as if he were rationalizing with himself. But then, out of nowhere…  
CRACK! His fist flew forward in a nice right hook, his knuckles digging into the pale countries skin. And of course, as soon as that first punch was thrown, the gloves were off. The bar patrons erupted into cheers as a quick crowd gathered around, and before they could even fully assemble, America had rushed forward again, grabbing onto Prussia's collar, dragging him in close to his infuriated face.  
(Enter Republican mode. The Battle Hymn of the Republic starts to play in the background. The American flag waves for Albert's speech!)  
"You son of a bitch! Matt's my little bro! And if you think I'll just stand by and let you take advantage of him, well then think again! You're nothing! You don't even fucking exist! You're a dead country man! And I don't think I'll have any trouble defeating a country that's already been defeated! You're nothing! You're a ghost! And NOBODY messes with America's friends! NOBODY! You poked a bear dude! And I don't need to hold back fighting you, because there's not even a risk of starting up a war! Because you're already a dead nation! Asshole!"  
Having completely lost it, America was clearly ready to go all out. He brought back his fist a second time, preparing for another well placed boxing punch. Being the number one boxer out of all the countries in the world (and it's not even a close call) America was more than prepared for some skin.

Prussia was dazed from the right hook, but he had been fighting wars long before America. He'd dealt with wins, loses, occupation, and pain far worse than a right hook. He spit out the influx of blood in his mouth onto the bar floor. He'd also been brawling in bars long before the stupid kid in front of him. He pulled his knees up to slam into America then kicked out harshly to push himself free.  
"Bring itz on unawesome!" Prussia snarled as he took a stance in the bar.  
"Gilbert! I swear if you fight him I will never, NEVER make you ANYTHING! Ever EVER!" Matthew tried to defuse the tense situation.  
"Sorry Birdie!" Prussia smirked, "He started it! Dur Bruder asked for this!"  
" Merde!" (Damn it) Canada cried out again. How had things fallen apart so fast!? Alfred was about to kill.  
Prussia turned his attention from America and was reaching out to grab a glass bottle off of a nearby table.  
This was going to hell in a hand basket! Damn!  
Canada rushed forward and stepped in front of his advancing, crazed brother planting his feet firmly on the floor. He wasn't going to be budged. He reached out grabbing onto America's shoulders with intensity. He stared into his brother's blue eyes with eyes that were nearly identical and quietly demanded,  
"Alfred. Stop!" Which might have worked…if a glass bottle hadn't come crashing down on Matthew's skull at just about the same time. Prussia's eyes widened having realized his mistake too late.  
"BIRDIE!" Prussia cried as his friend went crashing to the floor. The overzealous Prussian hadn't been paying attention and had struck out at what he assumed would be the advancing America.

America probably would have stopped to listen to his brother. If anyone could stop America, it was Canada.  
"Matt, what're you…" But then, glass came down, shattering. America watched in horror as his little brother's eyes rolled back in his skull. He wobbled once and then collapsed with a thud at America's feet.  
"MATT!" Alfred quickly fell to his knees beside him, worry stamped across his face. Reaching out he shook him harshly. "Matt! Matt!" But of course, he didn't stir. Canada was out cold. With a well placed hit like that, it was no wonder.  
America sat with his twin for just a few seconds. His arms began to tremble as he fell silent. The trembling spread through his body as anger began to build. A fire bloomed within. A few seconds more and he was seething, unable to contain his fury. Lifting his head, he glared hatefully Prussia's way.  
"You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you!" Gently, he lay his younger brother on the floor, then rose to his feet. Stepping over him, he lifted his fists. The bar patrons whooping and hollering, they cheered him on.  
"Get em Alfred!"  
"That counties no match for America!"  
"Republicans and Democrats can both agree on that!"  
America was never a very good listener to begin with, and at this point, he was way past the point of listening to anyone. He lunged, cracking knuckles into more flesh. He was fully ready to beat Prussia into unconsciousness.

Prussia was wide eyed as he stared at the down Canadian.  
"Ma-Matthew!" He let the rest of the shattered bottle fall out of his hand. He hadn't meant to whack his friend on the noggin.  
"Wa-wait!" He raised his hands up in defense. He had lost the urge to fight, and wanted to aide his friend, "Your bruder needz ice! I needz to get 'em ice!"  
He kept his arms up to protect himself, "America! Listen!" Of course that wasn't going to work. So unable to reason with the enraged America, Prussia prepared to fight or more so defend himself from the onslaught.

America wasn't about to let up. He'd been pushed and pushed and pushed even before Prussia arrived and started insulting him. And now, he was passed the point of no return. Over stressed, over tired, and having been deeply insulted was more than enough, but seeing Canada hurt was the last straw.  
"Bastard! Ass!" He continued to pummel him, one fist over the other, backing him up against the wall. Reaching out, he grabbed him by his collar. Much, much stronger than he appeared, he hoisted him up into the air with ease. Breathing heavily, and breaking out into a sweat, he glared at him.  
"What were you doing with my little bro? What was that crack about getting your way? HMM?! Did you TOUCH my bro?! I'll fucking kill you!"  
Already breathing heavily and sweating profusely, his face gradually started to grow pale. The hands he used to grip Prussia, already trembling from rage, began to tremble a bit more. His breath quickened, and he started to appear a bit clammy.  
"Get 'em Alfred!"  
"Show that jerk the strength of America!"

Prussia's red eye twitched at the question. It was neither a declaration of having done something or a statement of innocence. Maybe, it was intent of something he wanted.  
Either way the question went unanswered. Prussia reached up grabbing onto Alfred's hands trying to relieve the pressure he was feeling on his collar. His face was bloodied, but he was nowhere near giving in. He'd had plenty worse than this.  
Then Prussian felt a smirk engulf his face, and a large toothy grin appeared on his bloodied, pale features. Prussia knew the North America twins fought over who was older. He had heard Canada complain about it on more than one occasion, but nonetheless a bruder was a bruder. Prussia had raised Germany from a young child. Now he lived in his house. Caring for a brother was something Prussia could relate with the American on. As such he didn't want America to worry about his brother's safety, "Ze awezome me iz awezome friends wid birdie. Dine bruder is fine."

America gripped Prussia a bit more firmly, but not because he was any more angry than before. In fact, his grip increased because he was suddenly feeling weaker, and he didn't want to lose his hold on Prussia, not after what he'd just said. After hearing something like that, America needed to look him in the eye and size him up.  
"Friends?" He questioned. He didn't want to believe him because he was so wrapped up in his anger, but…he couldn't help but to remember Matt's face right before he was knocked out. He'd been trying to stop him. He'd been concerned. That…and even the awful Prussia had seemed upset that he'd accidentally hit Matt instead of America.  
"That thing…about pancakes…"  
A slight headache started to build up behind his eyes, a gentle throbbing making itself known. But there was no way he was going to appear weak in front of an enemy. Not until he cleared up this whole thing about Prussia and Matt.  
"Matt DID seem like he didn't want me to fight you…even though you're a giant ass face." Prussia suddenly started to feel a lot heavier. Afraid of dropping him, and his arms starting to shake, America decided to release him. Putting him down, his chest suddenly started to feel tight.  
Weird…what happened to my usually freakishly strong strength? He thought to himself. The fight now winding down, it was odd that America was only seeming to sweat more, his face paling further.  
"Dude's…is it hot in here?"

"Ze awezome me iz fine." Standing on his feet again Prussia looked around America to his unconscious friend on the floor. "…Crap…" He said under his breath. He'd never hear the end of this. "I hopez he waz lying about ze pancakes. He makez them best. With ze maple syrup stuff…." Prussia looked around the bar, "I needz ice." Physical injuries healed quicker with nations than normal humans. Only things directly affecting their country could really keep them down or took long periods of time to heal, but being a 'human' pain or a 'nation' pain ice would help either way. Prussia blew by America's side. He kept his distance so America couldn't stop him. Then he knelt down and gently shook Matthew's shoulder,  
"Birdie. Zorry." Of course the unconscious Canadian didn't stir, but it was the apology that counted. Right? So there it was.  
"Hmmm." Prussia looked back up at America, "Unawesome. We canz take him to your place, right? I can help…. Unawesome?" That's when Prussia realized what America actually looked like at the moment. He looked ill. He was sweating and pale and was he jittery? No. He was shaking. What was wrong with the super power?  
Prussia looked down at his unconscious friend on the floor. Truly he didn't have many friends left. France. Spain. Germany...Italy. At times they tended to forget him as well. No one bothered with him anymore. Nations didn't seem to care about those who had long since fallen from grace. He had taken an interest in the quiet Northern country because Canada seemed genuinely interested in him even if he was no longer a country. He felt wholeness when he was with Matthew. He hadn't felt in a long time. So he held his friendship with Canada in high regard. Whenever he felt himself getting down he'd fly to Canada's house for company and the pancakes didn't hurt. He'd been making the trip more and more often, as of late.  
He was the one who had knocked Matthew out. Matthew had come all this way to take care of his bruder. The least he could do was to make sure America was ok in his absence. He turned his red eyes back to America, "Whatz wrong? You don't look zo good. Maybe I should use Birdie's car to take you both home. Is da beer getting to you, kid?" Truly he had not meant to be insulting with the last line.

"I don't feel as amazing as usual…" America finally admitted. "Is something going on?" Of course, everyone in the bar knew what the problem probably was. One of the men gestured to the bar television which currently had the news on.  
"Hurricane Sandy, kid. Did you forget? We've been preparing for it for over a week. It made landfall in Jersey and is heading up to New York City." Alfred let out a groan of dismay. Of course he had known all about it too. It was one of the biggest news stories other than the election at the moment. But with all the heat he'd been under, he'd briefly forgotten.  
"Crap." He let out a long heavy sigh. Every country knew what a hurricane meant. Natural disasters were something most of them dealt with from time to time. Some were far worse than others. At least with hurricanes a lot of the time people could prepare, because it was well known that it was coming. It was far better to have a hurricane than say a major earthquake or mudslide, or God forbid…a volcano.  
"I almost totally forgot, the boss gave me the next few days off from campaigning because of Sandy. I was so eager to get out and blow off steam that I forgot…" Hurricanes seemed to manifest themselves as a cold or illness: a gradual onset, and lasting several days. But it was never anything too traumatic…with exception of a few really big, bad ones. America shuddered for a moment in recalling Katrina.  
"Sorry for beating you snotless Gil. Even though you DID deserve it…butt face." Glancing at Matt, sweat starting to roll down his skin, he thought that the first best thing was to take care of his little brother. "I guess I can take you up on your offer. We need to take care of Matt…" But even as he was speaking, it was clear his illness was getting worse. His golden eyebrows creased together as his headache started to get far worse. It throbbed and pounded behind his eyes. "Ugh…" For a brief second, the world swam. He stumbled once, but then caught himself. Stretching out a hand, he leaned on the nearest table. Suddenly embarrassed more than anything else, he glared Prussia's way.  
"I could still kick your ass, ghost nation!"

Prussia let America's comments go. He could always get him back later.  
"Ok. I can get Birdie. You got urzelf?" Prussia looked the unconscious Canadian over. Canada was wearing his normal, long brown jacket. Prussia had no shame diving through Canada's pockets for the car keys. It seemed he might have done this before because he went straight to the pocket where the Canadian kept his keys. Quickly he let the metal ring slide onto his pointer finger and held it up for America to see,  
"Same place as ze last time. We canz go."  
He carefully slid his arms beneath Canada's neck and the bend in Canada's knees. With a bit of concentration he lifted the unconscious Northern brother up off the floor. He held him carefully trying to keep his head from moving around much. Then he made a note of something else,  
"Geeze Birdie. You weigh less than last time." Prussia sighed. When Prussia looked back at America he could tell the other brother was more than a bit curious about what he had just said. So as he walked up to America he quickly added, "I took him out drinking at mine place. It waz awezome! Germany was there and Italy fed us pasta. Canada didn't handle the alcohol so well…. I had to drive him home in ze rental car. He didn't tell you? He waz hungover foreverz. It was so unawezome."  
Prussia frowned. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that Canada had kept America completely in the dark about how often they'd been seeing each other. He was the awesome Prussia, damn it! Not some unawezome secret to be hidden away. Obviously this was something they'd need to talk about when Canada woke up.  
"Can you make it America or do I needz to come back? Kumajiro is in the car. Ztupid bear. He'll probably bite me again now that Birdie is out." The red eyed Prussian shuddered a bit. He did not like that bear.

"I can make it to the car myself, thanks…" Alfred grumbled, feeling a bit pissy. He certainly didn't want any help from Prussia, even if he did need the help. But more than that was this entire relationship revelation. Why would Matt keep all this a secret? And why would he want to be friend with Prussia of all countries? And how long had this been going on? And were the two of them really just friends? The way Prussia was acting made him think…something that was often times very difficult for America to do.  
Instead of saying something right away, Alfred concentrated on following Prussia out to the car. He already missed his usual endless amounts of energy. Instead of bounding out of the bar, unstoppable and a stupid grin on his face, he found himself unsteady and weak. Sweat dripped from his jaw line, but oddly enough despite a growing fever…he was starting to feel cold.  
Crap. This is already worse than an average hurricane… Once outside, America spotted Canada's usual car, an American made car, because Canada had yet to create even a single car company for itself. It was a small four door and seeing Kumajiro and luggage in the backseat meant all three men would need to cram into the front.  
Alfred headed to the passenger's side, already knowing he wouldn't be able to drive, which sucked, because man, he LOVED driving. He loved cars. Fast cars. Sports cars. Red cars. And as always a good Mustang! But of course, Canada's car wasn't all that exciting anyway. It was something a mom might buy. Grabbing the door handle, Alfred found that his grip was already severely weakened. He managed to open the door, but not without some effort. Slipping in and sitting down, he quickly pulled his jacket in more tightly around his body and zipped it completely up. Shivering, his face white and his eyes red, he glanced to Prussia and held out his arms for Matt.  
"Give 'im to me. I'll hold him while your drive."

"Zu look like hell, America." There were a thousand insults running through the Prussian's mind, but somehow he found restraint and didn't utter one. Canada's made me soft! The Prussian thought in horror. He transferred the Northern twin over to the Southern twin and closed the car door.  
Once in on the other side he jammed the car keys into the ignition when a curious bear poked his head in between the driver and passenger seat. First looking at his master who he tended to forget at times, sniffing America, and then growling at the Prussian before settling in the back seat.  
"Stupid lunatic bear." Prussia grumbled under his breath. Then a huge grin came over his face, "I luv ze driving!" Gilbert slammed his foot onto the gas and away the car flew. The speed flung America back into his seat.  
What the unconscious Canadian couldn't tell his brother was that he did not trust Prussia to drive ever again. Ever. Once had been bad enough. There was one main reason for the driving restriction. One: Prussia suffered a severe case of road rage. Two: was that some roads in Germany didn't have speed limits. Prussia seemed to only accept the untrue fact that all roads had no speed limit. So the albino flew through a 35mph residential area somewhere along the speed of 90mph.  
"What is this mph!? Iz zo unawezome! Itz kph!" He said as he made a sharp turn. "So America where iz ur home? Your bruder did not tell me."

Poor Alfred had already been through so much, now he was suffering a minor heart attack on top of it all. His organs shot down to his back and guts as the speed of the drive startled him. Reaching out, he grabbed a hold of the "oh shit" handle, his other hand gripping his little bro to make sure he wasn't flung into the back with his bear.  
"For God's sake slow the fuck down you extinct dinosaur!" Already having trouble breathing, this little episode simply made it worse. He started to wheeze, audibly so.  
"The speed limit here's 35 bro! We do that for a reason! You're gunna get caught by the cops!" And speak of the devil, some blue and white lights suddenly started to flash behind them. A siren wailed.  
"Crap! Crappity crap crap!"

Prussia laughed in a lunatic way, "Kekeke! Don't worry Amerika! I canz handle thiz."  
"Oh my head…" The Canadian groaned in his brother's lap. He raised his hand to his aching head. He opened his eyes a small slit, and then they widened with horror when he realized that his car was in motion. His eyes widened further still when he realized he was in his brother's lap, and he could hear Prussia laughing from the driver's seat.  
"OH MY GOD!" Canada cried in quiet horror, "Gilbert! Pull the car over!" He could feel the speed of the car, and it was terrifying. Canada looked up at his brother, "Al!" He reached up putting his hand firmly on his ailing brother's shoulder.  
"Oh Birdie! Yourz awake!" The Prussian cried happily as he swerved the car around another bend.

Immediately, Alfred's stomach turned along with the car. His pale face became a quick, sickly green.  
"Ugh…ooo…dude…stop the car…" He groaned in misery. Gasping for breath, he was surprised to find that Prussia actually listened…but probably due to Matt's request other than his. The car swung onto the side of the road, the cop stopped behind them. The officer stepped up to the passenger's side first and just as he approached the car, Alfred flung open the door, leaned out of it and then he promptly vomited all over the police man's shoes.  
Feeling quite wretched, he glanced upward once he was done. A very angry officer glared down at him. Alfred chuckled weakly.

"Good even'n officer."height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"~Spotofpaint/p


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Getting Sick Sucks!

Needless to say, all three countries ended up in an American jail cell for reckless endangerment (and soiling an officer). But because they were countries, and their crime wasn't severe, they were simply put in a holding cell together. There were no beds in a holding cell, and during that time America fell incredibly ill. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to make his existence quite wretched. Matt had helped lay him down on the cold stone floor, and the prison guard was actually kind enough to offer him a blanket.  
"Britain called, he's on his way to come get you. You'll get a proper bed soon," he said. America didn't respond. Sweating bullets, he shivered on the floor. He pulled the blanket in tighter around himself. Wheezing heavily, a violent coughing fit suddenly escaped him. Lifting a hand, he instinctively covered his mouth, but even so, it sounded awful. The coughing fit wracked his already weakened body.  
"Ughh…like…I need Arthur…worrying…over a…little hurricane…"

"Mom's like that." Matthew said. He sat on the cold floor and pulled his brother's head into his lap to make him more comfortable, "You'll be ok, lil bro." He patted Alfred on his head comfortingly. He'd done this more than once in his lifetime. "We'll get you home soon." Kumajiro came over the North American twins and settled down next to America on the floor.  
Across the jail cell, Prussia sat staring at his friend with a sad puppy look on his face. Every time he tried to say something Canada would glare daggers at him. So he had fallen somewhat silent.  
"Britain called me. He was worried about you this morning. He wanted me to keep an eye on you until he got here. I'm sorry Alfred. I should have come sooner. I just lost track of time because somebody sidetracked me." Canada said the last line with a bit of anger in his voice.  
"Birdie. I didnz know it waz a bad time. You didnz zay…" Prussia added in, but once again Canada glared at him.

Alfred chuckled a bit, but the laughter turned into another wrack of coughing. Luckily, it didn't last as long as the initial one.  
"You…you're the little…bro, bro," he said. He let his blue eyes flutter closed a bit, just to rest. "New York…is always getting me into trouble, hah." He concentrated on breathing, which was a bit difficult simply due to the fact that he was so damned cold. "This election…it's tough this year. People…people are fired up more than usual…" Wincing, he turned his head to the side to cough again, making sure not to cough in Canada's face, even though it wasn't something another country could contract. His body tightened for the fit, but then he relaxed again once it was over.  
"Jersey and New York lost power…how're they gunna keep warm in thirty degree weather?" Sighing he opened his eyes to glance at his twin. "Guess that's why I'm so cold." He sighed again. "Stupid Arthur's gunna freak…"

Canada put his hand on his brother's forehead, "Your people will make it. We haven't always had electricity, remember? My people made it through many cold winters without power and so did yours. They'll be ok. They're Americans. They're tuff."  
As if on cue the khaki-wearing, green sweater vest, white button-up shirt Britain came to a screeching halt just outside of the holding cell,  
"My God! What the bloody hell has been going on!? I got a call just as I touched down! Alfred! My God! You look horrid! Matthew! Are you ok? Let's get you two home…" Then his eyes turned distastefully to Prussia. "What the bloody hell is that git doing here!?" Britain's emerald eyes grew huge when he laid eyes on the albino in the corner of the cell.  
"He was with me when this started." Canada groaned, "Please can we go. We can talk later. Alfred's getting worse. We should get him home."  
Britain stood at the door like a ninny motioning the guard to let the two younger nations out. He could have cared less about Prussia. In fact, he hated the albino, but he let it go in favor of getting to his two former colonies. As soon as the door opened he was in the cell fussing,  
"I told you to take care of yourself! You twit! Now, look at you! Let's get you home." Canada and Britain worked together to help get America off of the floor. He wasn't a lightweight by any means.

He managed to stand up with the help of having one country under each arm but moving him to an upright position seemed to make breathing a lot more painful. He winced but was too proud to cry out. Instead, he forced a stupid grin to his face and offered Canada a wink.  
"Damn straight we're tough," he said. "It's just a hurricane. And this is nothing like Katrina. And New Yorkers…are…the toughest of all!" But of course, America said that about a lot of people from a lot of states. He'd said it about Texans, and Georgians, …not Californians. They were wusses.  
"Normally I'd make fun of your tea Arth, but…I could really…use some…right about now." Burning up and his face impossibly white, it looked as if he were about to simply collapse. Luckily, his family was there to help him.

"My God. You must be hallucinating." Britain gasped as he walked with Alfred and Matthew. "Hold yourself together, boy." Meanwhile Prussia ran on ahead the car keys jingling in his hand.  
"I still haz birdie's car keyz!"  
"Give those back!" Canada yelled.  
"Birdie?" Britain gawked at the nickname. Then his eyes grew huge, "I am riding in no car that arse is driving! He'll kill us all."  
"You're not driving, Gilbert! Ever! I already made that clear!" Canada reassured his two family members. "I'll drive. Arthur, you ride in the back with Alfred. Gilbert hold Kumajiro."  
"Ze BEAR!? Birdie! No! Totally unawesome!" Prussia cried, but he was cut short when Canada gave him a look. Prussia grumbled and followed orders. A few minutes later they were all piling into Canada's car for the ride home. Britain sat in the back seat with Alfred's head in his lap and his legs sprawled out on the seat. Prussia sat in the front seat on edge and Canada drove occasionally glancing back at his brother. The ride home was uneventful. Every now and then Prussia would curse saying the bear had tried to bite him. Soon they were at America's home and unloading the sick nation.  
"Come on Al. This is nothing." Canada said as he helped Britain get the ill nation out of the car and to his feet. True Canada had seen his brother in much worse states, but he never liked seeing his brother ill. The new American recession had given America numerous colds over the past few years that Canada had watched his brother suffer through.  
"We'll get you to bed, lad. I'll make you some tea. If that's what you want." Arthur patted America on the back reassuringly. "You'll be up and about in no time."  
Once they got America into bed Britain disappeared downstairs into the kitchen. Prussia had wandered off to the guest room. Canada sat on the bed next to his brother. He kept his hand on the ill nations shoulder for comfort,  
"Even Superman has an allergy." He reminded. Matthew knew his brother hated being anything less than in perfect health and Matthew also knew Alfred hated being viewed as anything other than a strong hero. "You'll be back up in a few days. The election will be over, and you will be fine. Maybe you can take a mini vacation."

"You got that right, bro," he agreed. He loved the idea of a vacation. And American's were just the super best at vacations. They had Disney Land, and the best beaches out of anyone! And then, of course, there was Atlantis, and Las Vegas. Although…in recent years, mostly since the recession, a lot of people didn't get the vacation time they once did. A lot didn't even get off for major holidays like Christmas.  
Alfred knew his heath hadn't been the best since 2007, but he also knew it would get better. He was the best country in the world after all. And the strongest! No natural disaster or recession would take him down. God no. It wouldn't even come close. The only time he could remember ever really being worried was during the civil war, and the great depression. Those were the only two times in his entire history when he just wasn't sure if he'd make it. And so, colds and illnesses be damned. He knew he'd come back stronger than ever before, the way he always did. Grinning his usual self-confident grin, he lifted a fist into the air from his reclined position.  
"Stars and Stripes forever bro! Rock on!" Coughing again, he lowered his hand. He wondered briefly about his health care system. Until the election was over, no one knew what the hell was going on with it. But that was ok…America knew what to do.  
"Matt…" he croaked in a weak, sad sounding, little voice. "…come closer…" Canada, concerned for his brother and his suddenly seeming weakened state, did indeed lean in a little closer. America looked to him, his face still sweaty and pale.  
"…closer…" he whispered. Matt did as told, leaning in even further still.  
"…closer…" America beckoned. This time, Matt leaned his face just near America's, eagerly awaiting his urgent message, whatever it may be. America turned his head, very seriously held his brothers gaze. Then he opened his mouth and said:  
"Get me a triple cheeseburger with extra mayonnaise. It's the only way I'll survive!"  
Canada fell back away from his brother with an exasperated face on. Then he laughed at his brother. He patted his brother on the shoulder and then excused himself to go find the triple cheeseburger.  
It was sometime later that Britain came upstairs and sat with Alfred. He looked like he was seriously considering something and then he turned to his sick former colony.  
"I brought you tea, lad. You'll be up in no time. You don't have any teacups Alfred. You should really clean your kitchen as well." Damn! Lecturing again! Britain thought in agitation. "I took a week off to stay with you. I will be here until then. So I can help you through the election and this hurricane business. I believe your brother is staying as well. Although, I have not figured out why that dead bastard is here. Why did he have business in Canada? Was he there on business for Germany for some reason? Do you know?"  
After 20 questions and no real answers, the brooding English gent finally stopped questioning Alfred. He looked huffy and agitated but eventually, he let it drop. Thus the days passed and the four nations settled into America's house.

Britain took the guest room. Canada took the small guest room. Prussia had the couch. Since Alfred was stuck in bedtime passed slowly. Canada and Britain rotated turns with their ailing family member.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
Matthew and Gilbert

Alfred was seriously ill for a few days. But they all kept a close eye on the news to know when things would take a turn for the better. Finally, the storm passed, but the aftermath of it was fairly horrific. 90% of Long Island had no power, and many families had lost their homes. The shelters were packed full of people who had no other way to stay warm, and the food pantries were empty.  
New York City had completely shut down due to flooding. The subway system was underwater, along with the tunnels that lead out of the city. No one went to work. And because the streets were shut down, with trees, water, and electrical lines in the way…the gas deliveries weren't getting through to the gas stations. The people began rioting.  
Alfred remained ill even after the storm passed because of it all.  
"Stop fighting over gas, you morons!" He once shouted at the TV screen. But finally, finally, after ten days or so, people began to gradually get their power back. With the water receding, the trains were finally operational again. A few gas deliveries were made although people were still in a shortage, the worst was over.  
And best of all, because Alfred was so sick during that time, he wasn't made to do any more work for the elections. Election day came and went all the same, even though a lot of people in New York had to be transferred to different voting locations than usual due to the power outages. Some people even used the old paper ballots instead of computers! And so, the president was decided upon and by the time he recovered almost all of his woes were over. For the time being. There was still the ever-present threat of falling off the fiscal cliff…but America was getting used to having tremendous financial problems, so it wasn't anything new, and he did what he always did with it…completely ignore it.  
And so, one day, feeling waaay better, but still not quite a hundred percent, he decided to get up and have some fun. It was hard to be stuck in bed all the time, especially for someone who loved to goof around as much as he did. And so, in the morning, as soon as he got up, he headed to the kitchen where he knew Prussia to be.  
Stepping in, fully clothed and looking much more like himself, he marched over to the small kitchenette table where the other country was sitting. Grabbing the other chair and casually spinning it around, America sat down in it backward, crossing his arms over the back of it and leaning inward. He stared at the albino, his expression very serious. Then, without ever taking his eyes away from him, he reached out his hand to Prussia's plate of crêpes. He slid the entire thing away from the country, and then seemingly, out of nowhere, he pulled a Sausage McMuffin out from under his coat and placed it down in its place.  
"Peace treaty, ghost nation," he said. "For being so awesome while at my house." But then he leaned in further, his face still deadly serious. "But before we can claim to be neutral dudes, I've got one question you need to answer me first." His blue eyes were sharp as he stared, pointedly.  
"…How long have you been doing the nasty with my little bro?"

Prussia was shocked to see the egg McMuffin peace offering. His red eyes were wide and curious, "Where did zu get zat?" He had no idea how America could have gone to McDonald's and back without anyone noticing, but it was early in the morning. Letting the abnormality go Prussia simply stared at the breakfast sandwich with distaste. He was a bit afraid of modern fast food. Luckily he was saved from the sandwich when America asked his question. Prussia turned to stare into America's intense blue eyes. He sized up Canada's brother. Prussia had been a little shocked at the question, but he knew America was a straight forward kind of guy. He was like that himself.  
Prussia and Canada had talked about the whole 'Prussia's a secret thing' while America had been under. Prussia understood why Matthew had kept their friendship under wraps for so long, but it was still kind of lame, but at least he and Canada were on good terms again. Prussia wondered for a moment if Canada had also discussed their current relationship with America. A toothy grin took over the Prussian's face. That must be it. Prussia thought to himself. Matthew must have talked to his brother about us. That's why America is mentioning this. Gilbert believed his relationship with Canada was moving along nicely, but soon a frustrated frown took over Prussia's face. It's nice but slow. He thought sarcastically. He let out a snort and looked away from America, "Your bruder has strict border patrols. Far better than yourz. Far better than anybody as a matter of fact. Last time I tried to invade him he hit me with that stupid hockey stick." Prussia sighed again, "Next time I'll have to make sure it's furzer away."

At first, America only wrinkled his eyebrows together. He wasn't quite sure he even understood what it was Gilbert had said. Through a thick accent and a plethora of metaphors, his little American brain had trouble catching up. But then, finally, he thought he came to a conclusion to as what it was Prussia was saying. Immediately, his blue eyes widened with shock. He stood up abruptly, sliding his chair backward.  
"What? What the-DUDE! I was JOKING!" He gaped at the albino, his red eyes suddenly a lot more dangerous-seeming than before. America quickly leaned in, planting both hands firmly on the table. "Dude! You mean to tell me you've actually TRIED to sleep with my little bro! Because I'll fucking kill you if you did! And I think Arthur would put a bullet in you too! And France!…well…no…not France…he'd probably congratulate you, but Arthur and I will fucking kill you!" Face growing red, the two countries suddenly found themselves in almost the same exact circumstance they were in a few weeks ago at the bar. And it was then that Alfred remembered why he hadn't killed Prussia to begin with. Matt had said they were friends, in his quiet, Canadian way.  
Oh-My-God! Alfred's mind whirled. Are they like…interested in each other? Is MATT into this…this…asshole? The very idea was enough to suck the wind out of his sails. Because if that was the case…well…then he couldn't just kill Prussia. It would upset Matt.  
And so, for the time being, he stood, ridged and at the ready to pounce, but holding back in preparation of Prussia's response. If Gilbert was taking advantage of Matt at all, in any way, Alfred would kill him. But…if they were into each other…  
Oh My God! My country still doesn't even know how they feel about gay marriage! WAAAHHH! What do I do?!

Prussia looked like he had some witty retort when America got flustered about the current conversation. He was going to congratulate himself in front of America, and rub the current development in America's face. He was the great Prussia after all. He couldn't pass up a chance to gloat. Let America be pissed. Prussia smirked. He found it a little funny actually. He could revel in this situation for days to come. Then another thought popped into Gilbert's head. He and Canada had finally gotten on great terms again. This situation could throw a wrench into all that hard work he'd put into getting Matthew to forgive him for the problems he'd caused earlier in the week. Hell, Gilbert had been trying all week to cross the countries defenses. He had come close on more than one occasion. This could really screw it all up. The thought of pissing Canada off again made Prussia's eyebrows lower and crinkle in distaste. Prussia slowly stood up from the table. He raised his index finger into the air and motioned for America to wait,  
"Wait. Wait ze minute. Pleaze. I willz be right back." Then he ran out of the kitchen like a flash of white lightning. He almost retreated as fast as Italy in fact. He ran upstairs to the guest room where Canada was currently sleeping. The Northern nation wasn't one to sleep in, but he had stayed up late last night finishing a paper for his boss. As such Matthew was sound asleep when Prussia came quickly walking into the room. Canada was brought back into consciousness when he heard the floorboards of the guest room creak. Matthew opened his eyes with a yawn. The world was a bit fuzzy without his glasses on and he was lying with his back towards the door. Matthew assumed Britain needed something when he heard someone enter his room in the early morning hours. Matthew was in the process of rolling over to face the door when a certain Albino hopped up onto the bed. Gilbert hopped on top of him. With a leg on either side, Prussia was sitting squarely on Matthew's stomach. Gilbert stared down at Matthew with intense red eyes while his weight pinned the smaller nation to the bed.  
"E-eh!" Matthew let out the Canadian catchphrase as he stared up at the red-eyed albino who was currently taking up residence on his stomach. Matthew's face started to turn red as he stared up at Prussia. Prussia had become pretty persistent about bothering Matthew in this particular area over the past few days. Not that Matthew really objected, but Matthew was trying to keep the Prussia situation under wraps until Britain left and he'd left Alfred's. Matthew was hoping to sort this all out when he went home but plans did have a way of falling apart.  
"Gi-gilbert!" Matthew hush whispered. Matthew had no clue if anyone else was up at the moment. He didn't want to cause a scene at his brother's house, "Now is not the time for this! I told you we'd settle this when we went back to my house!"  
Prussia laughed as he looked down at Canada's face, "But Birdie. I can't wait that long. I think I upset your bruder."  
Canada's eyes widened a bit a slight twitch developing in his left eye, "You upset Alfred? What happened!?"  
"He asked about us and I told the truth," Prussia said honestly.  
"The truth! How much of the truth did you tell!?" Canada cried out in a panicked voice. Canada brought his hands up to his head and gently pulled at his hair. This could be disastrous. Canada thought to himself.  
"As much as ze awezome me could." Prussia once again answered honestly. He reached out taking a hold of Canada's hands and pulled them away from his blonde hair. Prussia held one of Canada's hands firmly in each of his own. He gently moved Canada's hands away from his head and held them against the mattress effectively holding Canada in place, "Birdie. I needz tha truth from you. Itz not gonna wait. He'z going to askz you."  
Canada felt a headache looming. Did he really have to deal with this right now!? Really!? Yes. He liked Prussia! He did, but Britain was going to flip a lid and he really didn't want to deal with Arthur or Alfred at the moment. He balled his hands into fists as aggravation at the situation settled over him. He had just started thinking about how to handle Alfred, but he didn't get deep into thought. He looked towards some far corner of the room staring out at nothing. He had taken his eyes off of Prussia for a moment, and then suddenly he felt lips press firmly against his.  
"Hmm! Uhhm!" Matthew's rebuttal was muffled by the lips firmly holding his hostage and the smaller nation started to squirm underneath Prussia. Damn why is this awesome! Maple! I'm using his vocabulary! He was more upset by the fact that he really didn't want to stop it, but he knew he needed too. What if somebody walked in on this? It's not my house you idiot! Matthew tried to say. Britain will be pissed!

Of course, America followed to see where the HELL Prussia was going at this hour in the morning when everyone else was sleeping. Who leaves in the middle of such an important conversation? Did he have to pee that badly? Alfred didn't think so. And so, he followed to see what it was he was up to.  
Needless to say, he witnessed pretty much everything. There was no hesitation, there was no warning. There was just the thud thud thud THUD THUD of running feet, and then a superpower was flying through the air. He flung himself at his enemy, tackling him in his side. CRACK! Slamming into Prussia, America rocketed him straight off the bed and onto the floor. And once there, he was not going to let up. Seated on top of him, America glared daggers Gilbert's way.  
"You're DEAD! You're FUCKING DEAD! You're already dead, but I'm going to kill you a second time! You'll be twice as dead dude! DUDE! No one touches my little bro! Especially not a ghost nation like you! GAAAH!"  
But oddly enough, despite his clearly apparent rage, he didn't pummel the other nation like he had back at the bar. And try to fool himself as he might…Albert knew Matthew and he knew him well. He recalled that look he gave him back at the bar and how he'd pleaded him not to fight. Albert knew Matt liked Gilbert…even if he was a self-arrogant manipulating monkey ass face! And so, instead of killing Prussia as previous promised, he simply held him in place.  
"Matt, bro," he said, still firmly holding Prussia down. "You tell me what to do, bro, ok? If this shit face is bothering you, you give me the word and I'll make it so he can't ever use his legs ever again. But if you're into this freak show…let me know and I'll back off. Ok, bro?" And it was painfully evident that he meant it. There was no doubt that America intended to completely cripple the other country if Matt gave the word. America glared down at Prussia with disgust.  
"And to think I offered you my Sausage McMuffin. For SHAME!"

What just happened? The second largest country in the world stared up at the ceiling his blue eyes huge. Prussia had. Alfred. Alfred had. Matthew's mind worked in slow motion as Alfred spoke to him. The words took time to process. As if he didn't have enough going through his head already a shrill British voice cried out from the door, "By God! I knew it! You two are snogging! What the hell are you thinking?"  
Canada's groan was drawn out and filled with grief. He pulled the comforter over his head hiding from the world. He just wanted to go back to sleep. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? The quiet nation couldn't hide forever though. The longer Matthew stayed under the comforter the stronger America's grip on Prussia's shirt collar got. And America wasn't the only one waiting for an answer.  
Prussia's eye narrowed as he stared at the lump on the bed, "Matthew!" He said clearly despite the American who was pinning him down, "If you want me to go back to mine bruder's just say so! I won't come back. If I'm botheringz you juz zay it."  
Britain was the first to answer that, "That's exactly what he wants you- you- !" Britain was turning red in the face. He was so flustered he found it hard to speak. It was the silence that made Prussia sink back against the floor. Prussia looked away from his friend and he turned his head away from America. Prussia took his answer from the silence, "I willz go home. You can be a ghost anywhere. I'll ztay at mine bruderz. I wonz come back anymore. No morz pancakes. I'm too awezome for this anyway."  
That got Matthew to sit up in bed. He didn't want Gilbert to leave. He would be devastated if Prussia never came back. In a world that tended to turn him into a ghost, he didn't want the one person who'd always noticed him to leave. He loved his family, but even America and Britain forgot about him on occasion. He loved having someone who always noticed him around. So Matthew quickly found himself crying out, "No! No! Don't do that!" The smaller nation clambered out of bed quickly. Perhaps a bit too quickly, Matthew got tangled up in the bed sheets and fell out of bed and onto the floor next to his brother and Prussia. He frantically reached out putting his hand on Alfred's shoulder. He was panicked, desperate, and sorry all at the same time. "It's ok. I-I want him to stay. Please. I need him to stay." Had he ever asked his brother something so desperately? He turned his blue eyes back to his second father and looked at Britain remorsefully. Canada knew Britain didn't like Prussia. He had wanted to break this to his father in a more elegant manner, but he couldn't keep it hidden anymore either, "I'm sorry. I knew you'd-" He was cut off when Britain huffed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. "Maple," Canada sniffed as his father stormed off. Matthew didn't turn back to face his brother either as he raised his hand to his eyes. He hadn't wanted to upset his father, but things had seemed to unravel so quickly. With a heavy sigh he gathered his frayed nerves and wiped his eyes dry.

America had meant what he'd said. He had plenty of faults, to be sure, but he was at least fairly straight forward. And seeing Matt scramble out of bed like that and seeing him rush to Prussia's side, well…he didn't really need to say anything. Alfred wasn't the best at reading emotions, but Matt's desperate face was clear as day. And so, America did what he promised.  
"Ok bro," he said, his voice much softer now that he knew there wasn't any real danger to protect Matt from. Releasing Prussia, Alfred clambered off of his chest. He didn't get up, however, because Matt was still kneeling beside his…boyfriend? Alfred wasn't sure what to call Prussia, but he knew well enough to see that it was ok. He'd always known Matt to swing that way. Canada, unlike America, had no problem with people of different orientations.  
The tension in the room was getting to be a little bit too much, especially for a country as light-hearted as America. And seeing as the impending disaster was avoided, there was certainly no need to be so upset anymore, right?  
And so, America's usual, silly grin took over his face as he reached out an arm and slapped poor Matt across the back, perhaps a bit more forcefully than he should have.  
"You idiot, you! Dude! You should have just told me! Then I wouldn't have tried to break your boyfriend's legs, you know? Hahahaha! I'd argue with your taste in men though. He's pretty ugly isn't he?" And apparently not satisfied enough with a slap on the back, Alfred then proceeded to 'play punch' his little brother. And as always, his play punches were a little much for such a shy country.  
"I've gotchyour back man! If this jerk-wad ever gives you trouble you give me a holler! Big brother America will always be here to support you, and also to completely moderate and possibly dominate all of your foreign affairs!"

The silence lasted for a moment. Then Canada couldn't hold it back anymore. "I can protect my own borders, Al." He let out a quiet laugh. He winced as he felt a slight sting in his back, "You got your super strength back I see. I'm glad you feel better." With one more sigh, he looked back at his brother. He felt relieved that his brother was handling the situation so well. Then he looked from his brother and then down at the wide-eyed Prussian who was still on the floor. Gilbert seemed a bit dazed and excited. He hadn't moved since Canada had rushed to be by his side, "Gilbert? You ok?" Matthew asked. The Prussian continued to stare forward blankly.  
"Gil?" Matthew reached out putting his hand on Prussia's shoulder to shake him. That's when Prussia flew up off the floor. He jumped to his feet startling Canada, but then the albino burst into maniacal laughter.  
"I've done it! I've occupied Canada's border!" Matthew rolled his eyes as his boyfriend continued to laugh like a nutcase.

When America went back downstairs Britain was sitting in a chair in the living room. His eyes white with shock. In one hand he held a tea saucer and in the other, he held a tea cup. He had gone out and bought a set of tea cups after berating Alfred for not having any. At the moment though, he could have cared less about the tea. He was trembling so bad that the cup was rattling against the saucer with a fair amount of noise. He wasn't upset about Canada's policies on dating, but he was severely disturbed about who Canada was with.  
"Stupid Arse. Prussia's been around for ages! He's practically been with everyone in Europe! I don't trust him! Now he's shacking up with my former colony. Blimey! Oh my God!" The cup and saucer rattled louder as tea began to slosh out of the cup from the shaking.  
"They're snogging like it's nothing! He's not even a real country!" Britain didn't seem to notice the tea spilling onto his pants, "By God, this is France's fault! France is one of Gilbert's best friends! I bet he knew about this! What does this mean for Canada's relationship with Germany? Does Germany know about this?"

After seeing everything was ok with his brother, America headed downstairs to check on Britain. Arthur had always been a worry-wart. America remembered being a kid, growing up in his house. He hadn't been allowed to do hardly anything fun at all!  
"Get off that counter!"  
"Do NOT play with those matches!"  
"Knives are not toys!"  
"No, you're not getting a rocket for your birthday!"  
Those were just a few of his memories. As such, he knew he'd be freaking out about this too. And of course, he was right. Stepping into the living room, he found Britain shaking like a leaf, teacup rattling and spilling tea everywhere. Alfred couldn't help but to laugh.  
"Hahaha! You're such an old worry-wart!" Running over, America leapt and plopped his butt down on the couch just beside his parental figure. "You are kinda right though, Prussia is kind of a man whore. And it probably IS France's fault. Pretty much everything is, am I right?" He laughed again as he elbowed his father figure in the side.  
"Anyway, Arty, we gotta let Matt do what he's gotta do, right? How's the famous saying go?" He put a index finger to his chin in thought as his blue eyes lifted to the ceiling. "If you love someone, teach them how to fish? No, wait…it's…give a man a fish and he eats for a day? No wait…this has nothing to do with fish. Letting someone go is the hardest thing to do? No wait…life is like a box of chocolates…no…no…wait! I got it!" Snapping his fingers he looked to poor Britain.  
"Love is all you need! Yeah! The Beetles had it right! And you should trust them Arty! They're from your neck of the woods!" America smiled brightly, clearly convinced that he had fixed everything for poor Arthur. "Even if Prussia is a whore, maybe that's what Matt wants right now. We should support him, even if Prussia is a monkey ass face. If you're worried, you can just leave it to me! I'll protect him and make sure he doesn't get into trouble. I just told him upstairs that if he ever needs me to save him, to just say the word and I'll rush in guns blazing! Then he said something about being able to protect his own borders, but clearly, that part was a joke."  
America continued to grin, convinced he was being just oh-so-helpful. In reality, he was just setting his father-figure up for a heart attack.  
"Yup! No need to worry when America is your older brother who lives next door!"

As America continued to speak the teacup only began to rattle louder and louder. Eventually, it shook right out of Arthur's hand, and tea spilled all over his pants. This ungentlemanly behavior didn't seem to pull the Brit out of his thoughts. He was still staring off in shock and horror as he thought of Canada and Prussia, "You kids know nothing about Prussia! Only what you've read in history books…."  
Arthur thought about what he was saying to America and rephrased, "Only what you've played in video games! Blimey!" Britain jumped to his feet. The teacup he'd been using went crashing to the floor, "I can't let this happen. I don't trust that arse! People from my neck of the woods- Ugh! You can't trust him! He'll stab Matthew in the back! A-and you! You hardly ever visit your brother! How will you be able to keep an eye on him? I can't do it! I'm too far away and you're not responsible enough!" In truth, no one really visited the Canadian. He wasn't involved in a lot of the things his family was involved in. His only real sports interest was hockey which he dominated. Matthew didn't enjoy foreign films, or his brother's over-hyped movies. Plus when Canada did show up for things he was far from the center of attention, hell, the kid was somewhat invisible most of the time. It was a shame to admit that they'd actually left Matthew at venues before, not remembering the Northern nation had attended with them.  
Britain paced. Prussia would be at Matthew's house if they were snogging! All kinds of things could happen. At just that moment the albino nation came walking downstairs like he was king of the world. He wore a triumphant grin. After his long night of paper writing Matthew needed more sleep, so he'd gone back to bed. As such Prussia decided to come downstairs and brave his boyfriend's family. At Canada's request he decided to try and reassure Britain, "Ze awezome me will take awezome care of him. Zu don't needz to worry." Prussia said with vigor.  
"I'll make that call! You are friends with that blasted FROG! You can't be trusted!", Britain hollered. Britain stalked towards Prussia index finger raised. He was going into a full on rant about how irresponsible and ridiculous the situation was. He was telling Prussia that he should leave. Britain carried on for quite a while, but Prussia stood his ground. Prussia let Britain speak his mind without making one sarcastic comment. It was clear by his demeanor that he was serious about Canada. He never once faltered in his resolve of taking care of Matthew despite Britain's criticism that the relationship was a disaster waiting to happen.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
A Doomed Future

Back upstairs in America's house, while the three other countries downstairs fussed and argued, Canada rested peace. He lay in the guest room, golden hair strewn about his pillow. A stuffed animal version of his polar bear lay snuggled loosely between his arms. Glasses resting on the nightstand of the guest room he occupied, and his new boyfriend finally out in the open with his family, things seemed as if they might actually work out. Britain may have been angry and mistrusting at the moment, but at least America seemed as if he were trying to be accepting…in his strange overprotective way. And so, the quieter of the two twins was able to close his eyes and rest.  
But far away from such a peaceful time, was a future that was torn apart by war, famine, disease, and despair. And in an act of complete and total desperation, a certain country may have stolen Britain's book of black magic. And with absolutely nothing left to lose, that country cast a spell that had been both forbidden, and considered so dangerous…it was also cursed.  
He hardly cared. And so, through a blanket of darkness and light, he was sucked out of his time period and sent five years into the past. Thankfully…he had remembered the exact date that would lead him to a location where all the players he needed were in one place together. And the only reason he'd been able to remember such a date, was because it had been right after the elections, and also right after he had recovered from Hurricane Sandy.  
He knew he would arrive at his own house. And he also knew…that Canada, Britain, Prussia, and a past version of himself would be present. It would cause a time paradox to be certain…but again he didn't care. He hardly cared about anything anymore. There was only one thing left that he could do.  
In the same swirl of darkness and light, the country appeared in the upstairs bedroom where Canada currently rested. And as the magic around him began to fade…the country collapsed down to one knee from the weight of his own body, and the pain it took to hold himself upright.  
It was America…but he hardly resembled the America everyone was so familiar with. He looked drastically, dreadfully different from the one that was, at that moment, downstairs, laughing and teasing Britain, or making fun of Prussia. This America…could have easily been mistaken for someone else.  
He wasn't in his usual jacket. His was in his army uniform, complete with combat boots and dog tags. He would have had his helmet too…had it not been blown from his head in the last firefight he took part in. And the uniform itself was worse for wear. It was torn in places, mud-smeared and spattered it, and worse of all…were the dark red stains it sported in places.  
America himself looked worse than his camouflage. His skin was darkened with the same mud. No longer pale, but rather tanned from being out in the sun all day, every day, gave him an even darker look still. He was covered in sweat. His golden hair had been crudely hacked off, seemingly with a knife. What was left of it was stained with blood.  
Lifting his head, the eye patch he wore became painfully obvious. It was clearly a homemade one, roughly applied, probably in the midst of battle. It was just some cloth that had been torn and taped over his wound…and it wasn't doing its job completely…blood was still seeping out from under it running down his left cheek and toward his jaw line.  
Blood also dripped from a split and swollen looking lower lip, and a gash over his healthy eye. And as he struggled to catch his breath, something that seemed much more labored than it should be, spatterings of the liquid stained the carpet beneath him.  
Knowing he had to stand and do his job, America reached out and grabbed onto his AK47 which he had dropped upon entry just next to the magic book, which he ignored. It had served its purpose. As he took hold of his gun with both hands, it became clear that he was missing several fingers on his left hand. What was left of the appendage had also been hastily wrapped in the same way as his eye. But luckily, he'd always been a righty, and so, felt he could at least still operate his gun and get the job done.  
"Get up…" he mumbled to himself through grit teeth. "Get up soldier!" He called upon the willpower he'd always had within himself when things became impossibly tough. Despite the way he once acted in his days of the past, appearing carefree and someone useless, he actually was quite determined, and a lot tougher than the other countries may have even realized. America had a spirit that couldn't be crushed or defeated…even when the country itself was being crushed and defeated.  
"I won't fucking die! Not yet!" He had one thing left to do. And by God he was going to do it. Once it was done, it would be done, and he would cease to exist anyway. And so, on spirit and willpower alone, and with the strength of the states in the future that still stood, he pushed himself back upright and to his feet.  
Standing erect and tall, his shoulders back and his chin held high, he lifted his gun with him, even though it was growing heavier by the second.  
I have to find Prussia, he thought desperately. I have to find him before it's all too late! Not noticing Matthew in the bed for the moment, for he was facing the bedroom door, and the bed itself was to his left…the side he was blind on…he took one unsteady step forward, his army boots clumping loudly on the floor.

Canada had been dozing peacefully when he felt something odd. It was hard to explain. Probably another one of those twin things as Britain so often said. He got that feeling whenever his twin was close by, but… this sensation felt different. It was a heavy feeling in his gut, and it made him uncomfortable.  
Unable to ignore it Matthew opened his eyes and saw the fuzzy outline of his brother in the illuminated doorway. Matthew's first instinct was to roll his eyes. He was tired, damn it. He wanted to sleep. He'd been up practically all night.  
Matthew couldn't tell very well because his glasses sat on the nightstand, but it seemed like his brother was wearing something strange. Matthew could tell Alfred was not wearing his normal clothes. The colors were to dim, were they army green? Was that a rifle? What the hell? What was Alfred doing?  
Matthew took a tight hold on the stuffed bear in his arms. He didn't hesitate to throw the bear across the room and hit Alfred with it,  
"Alfred, what the hell are you doing?" Matthew reached out to grab his glasses from the nightstand and pulled them on. He let out a yawn, "I just got to sleep again, Al."  
"Al…." His voice trailed off when he opened his eyes and stared at his older brother. His blue eyes grew huge as he took in the horrible sight of his twin brother. "…A-a-alf-red?" his voice caught in his throat as he sat up in bed, "O-oh mon dieu."

America stopped in the doorway once hit with the bear. But even far more shocking for him was hearing his twin brother's voice. Slowly, he turned around. As he did, it would have been even more shocking for poor Canada to see his battered face. But as America's one good eye, fell to his brother's sweet face, his entire war hardened exterior changed.  
"M…Matthew?" His voice had quivered, and along with it, so did his chin. Matt watched as Alfred's entire expression transformed, twisting and warping into one of complete and total grief. He appeared completely heartbroken, an emotion Canada never had witnessed before on his brother's face.  
America's one blue eye began to shimmer, and tears unashamedly began to roll down his dirtied face. Before Canada could ever understand what was happening, America turned to face him completely, and then ran to him, a slight limp in his right leg.  
"Brother!" America flung himself at Matthew, and once he reached him at his bed side, he fell to his knees, dropping his weapon to the floor at his side. Reaching out, he clutched the young blonde to his chest, tightly, with both hands and with desperation no one had ever seen on what should have been strong countries face.  
"Oh my God! You're here! I mean, I knew you would be, but I…I…I didn't think I could…" And quite suddenly…he was sobbing. He buried his bruised and bloodied face in the northern countries shoulder, his tears and blood soaking into his pajamas.  
"I…I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Please! Please forgive me little brother? I thought I could protect you…keep you safe but I…I couldn't! And I…I didn't know what was happening until you were gone! And once you were gone, I…I couldn't find you! I searched everywhere! I'm so sorry! Please believe me? I tried everything but I…I was too late!"  
He clutched Canada to his chest, refusing to let go. That may have been disturbing enough for Matt, and his brothers appearance would have been terrifying too, and maybe even the things he was blubbering about, or perhaps seeing him so upset, but perhaps even most of all, would be the way he trembled in Canada's arms. He was clearly a complete and total wreck, and he looked almost…as if he were dying…  
"Please forgive me," he said again, burying his face against him. "I w…I wasn't a good big brother. I failed…I've failed everyone…but mostly you." If at all possible, he held onto Matthew even more tightly, his body, considerably thinner than what Matt was used to, trembled even more violently from his grief.  
"I love you Matthew," he said, another sob escaping him. "I was always joking around, or teasing you…and I…I never told you enough…how much I love you. How important you are to me…Please…please forgive me. I've come for a second chance…please give me a second chance…"

"Eh." Canada's eyes were as large as the moon. He was far passed confused. At first his arms hung at his sides as his twin grabbed him and started to blubber and cry. He knew his brother was a prankster. Hell, Alfred pulled pranks all the time. A few seconds ago Matthew assumed his brother's get up was a ruse of some sort, but he felt his brother shaking. He'd never seen his brother cry like this. He couldn't fake this raw type of emotion. Alfred just wasn't that good of an actor. Besides America's tough front was one thing Matthew had always believed his brother would never let slip. He'd seen his brother keep the tough front up in the darkest of times, but here was his twin crying like a baby.  
Matthew raised his arms unaware that the terror was causing him to shake as well. He reached out tightly wrapping his arms around his brother. What is he talking about? He hasn't failed me? Did something happen? Did he get attacked? Did I miss something? Where are Britain and Prussia? Surely if something this horrible had happened somebody would have come and woke him up. Everything seemed ok, but here was Alfred bleeding, sobbing, and a total wreck in his arms. So Matthew did the only thing he could think. He pulled his brother closer to him.  
"It's ok Alfred. I-I don't know what you're talking about, Al. I'm fine. I'm fine bro. Y-you didn't fail me. C-calm down. Ok?" And of course, Canada knew that they needed some help, right away, so he called out in his quiet way for their father, "Br-Britain!" He was still in shock and his voice was low. But it was then that he looked down at himself and saw the blood. It was everywhere. Alfred was bleeding and the blood was soaking through Matthew's pajamas and the bed as well. He'd known he was hurt…but the sheer amount of it showed him how bad it truly was. Horror quickly began to set in.  
"BRITAIN! BRITAIN HELP! PLEASE HELP!" He shrieked. Matthew's blue eyes stayed wide. "Alfred! You're bleeding! You're really bleeding! What happened to you? What's going on? Oh God! You need to lie down! You're wounds! Mon Deiu!" Matthew felt himself wanting to hyperventilate at seeing his brother in such poor condition.

The trio downstairs heard the Northern nation scream. Britain ran up the stairs.  
"What the bloody hell is it now? Matthew! What's the matter-" Britain burst into the guest room and froze. His green eyes grew huge as he saw America in Canada's arms. America looked horrid. The younger nation looked like he'd been through WW3, but Britain would recognize his former colony anywhere.  
Why is he injured like that? Oh my God! What's going on here? Britain spun around to find his America standing behind him. Having just come up the stairs, the super power had a look of shock on his face.  
"What the-" There were two of them! Obviously, the America in Matthew's arms didn't belong here. Britain mentally tried to think of any logical reason for there to be two America's.  
He spun back around to the America in Matthew's arms. Britain's eyes searched the room desperately and then his wide, green eyes traveled down to the floor. There it was. There was the answer to this mystery. It was a spell book. It was his spell book. The book looked worse for wear, but black magic was obviously behind this fiasco.  
Britain had been with America all morning. So the present day America hadn't performed any magic. Plus Britain knew his spell book was in his home. It was not in America. Britain's mind raced through the spells trying to pinpoint the exact one Alfred had used.  
"Oh my God! What have you done, Alfred? You git! You stole my spellbook!" The horrified Britain stared at the scene in front of him in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Suddenly realization came to Britain. Why would Alfred use this spell? This wasn't a duplication spell or some little incantation.  
There was only one spell that would have the end result of two existences of the same person in one place and also answer for all the lunacy that was currently taking place. That spell was forbidden because the penalty for casting that spell was the death of the castor. His British mind was reeling. This was a time travel spell, and that spell was highly ineffective anyway, the castor of the spell would die within minutes of going back in time. This future America was doomed and nothing Britain could do would save him. Britain felt his heart beat violently in his chest. But then, a third pair of feet came up the stairs and over to the open doorway.  
"Birdie! Are you ok?" Prussia rounded the corner and stood in the doorway behind Britain.

America from the present day, the one that had been downstairs with Britain and Prussia ran up the stairs just behind Britain when he heard Canada scream. He sounded really scared! Worried for his little Bro (maybe he was having a nightmare?) America ran into the room just behind the elder country. And once he stepped in…he froze in place.  
A man was in the room with Matt. He was in an American soldier's uniform, and he was kneeling in front of his baby brother…blubbering…crying…and he was horrifically injured. Blood dripped from his face and out from under his hair…or what was left of it. He looked like a wreck.  
America quickly looked to Matt's face. He saw the fear there, and he immediately knew what he had to do. This man…whoever he was…must have broken into his house. And now, he was scaring his bro! Immediately, America marched forward, meaning business. Reaching out, he grabbed the strangers shoulder.  
"Look here pal! I don't know who you think you are, but no one frightens my little broth-!" But America's righteous rant was immediately cut short when the stranger turned to face him. His face, although thin, and haggard, and even with a missing eye, was quite unmistakable. It was like looking into a mirror. A horrible, terrifying mirror.  
America fell speechless. He was too shocked to make a witty comeback, or even move. This soldier before him…the one that looked like he may die from his wounds…was…him?  
That's impossible, he thought. No one looks like me…except for Matthew. But…his face…  
The American soldier appeared as if he were going to say something to the present day America…but that was when Prussia stepped into the room.  
"Birdie! Are you ok?"  
Everyone in the room watched as the soldier's tears stopped. His grief-stricken, defeated expression changed drastically, and as quickly as spreading fire, anger bloomed over his features. His good eye hardened, flames igniting deep within them. His lips curled, a horrible snarl making its way over his face. He trembled again, but this time, due to a very different emotion.  
"You!" And just like that, he looked more like the Devil himself than someone crippled by grief and fatal injuries. He summoned all the strength he had left, then reached down to his gun. Grabbing it, he rose to his feet, releasing Canada. Staggering just a bit, he purposefully and quickly marched forward, moving rather well considering how much pain he should have been in. He didn't explain himself, and he said nothing as he went to the door. He grabbed Britain, then suddenly and roughly shoved him aside. And then, once he was out of the way, he didn't even hesitate to lift his AK47.  
He aimed at Prussia, planted his feet, then immediately pulled the trigger. The gun went off, deafening in the small space of the upper bedroom of the house. And as the bullet flew, their shells falling to the floor, the soldier screamed in what sounded like a completely crazed rage.

Prussia's red eyes widened when the future America stood up from his place next to Matthew. He immediately knew the look in future America's eyes. It was the look of someone who was about to kill. Gilbert knew he was in trouble when he saw future America reach out and shove Britain aside. Seeing as he was the only one left on the bad end of the gun Prussia was scrambling before America ever pulled the trigger. He dropped low as bullets whizzed over his head. He let out a cry as he crawled and scrambled through the bedroom door and out into the hallway. It wasn't like the wall offered much protection though. Wood splintered and rained down just above his head as he fled down the hallway.  
Canada let out a cry of horror as his war-torn brother started shooting at his boyfriend. His hands flew up and covered his ears as the sound of the gun filled the room and his ears began to ring. Matthew quickly started to hyperventilate again when he realized his hands were covered in America's blood, and it was soaking into his hair and dripping down the sides of his face. It was horrifying. There was still blood everywhere, and wherever the war torn Alfred went a trail of red followed.  
Canada didn't know why there were two Alfred's in the room. He didn't know why the war torn Alfred was shooting at his boyfriend. Matthew didn't have the vaguest idea what was happening. However, Matthew did know he loved his brother, be it the brother he was used too who was standing and staring at the scene in shock or this crazed soldier brother. It didn't matter.  
Alfred was Alfred, and currently, the Alfred with the assault rifle was bleeding profusely, and he needed to be stopped. Matthew jumped from the bed and ran after America.  
"Stop! Stop! STOP!" He reached out grabbing at the gun in crazed America's hands. He grabbed the barrel ignoring his burning hand and grabbed at the stock. He wrenched the barrel up and away from the direction of his boyfriend. The line of bullets flew up the wall and into the roof, plaster and paint raining down on the pair. Matthew was terrified. All the motion was causing future America to bleed more,  
"ALFRED! STOP! What are you doing? You're still bleeding!" Canada let go of the rifle and reached out putting his hands on his brother's shoulders. "Alfred! What is going on?"  
Perhaps no one else could've broken America from his crazed state. Nothing else could have reached him but those tearing blue orbs that were identical to his own. Those blue eyes that he hadn't seen in 3 years.

Future America would still remember the descent into hell that he'd taken over the last 5 years. It had been July 1st. Canada's birthday was on that day like it had been for ages. America had canceled last minute on their plans that day. It wasn't on purpose, but things had gotten so busy. His boss had needed him, and Matthew although disappointed had understood and they agreed that next year they'd do something awesome to make up for it. Then three days later it had been July 4th, America's birthday. Canada had come to his birthday party, but he hadn't stayed the whole time. Canada was a quiet guy. He was much like Japan in that way. Matthew had come to wish his brother well and watch the fireworks, but he had left before the drinking and all-out party had set in around one in the morning.  
That had been it. No warning or hints about the things to come.  
There were really no major holidays between July 4th and Christmas that they shared. Canadian and American Thanksgiving were held on different days. Canada had long since argued that he was too old to go trick or treating. As such Alfred hadn't started missing his brother until around December when he hadn't received an RSVP for the Christmas party he threw every year. After no returns to his calls, he'd called both Britain and France. He had found out that no one had heard from Matthew for quite some time.  
They'd later be told by the white-haired bastard whose past self was currently hiding, that July 6th was the day Gilbert had tricked Matthew into going to Russia. Future Gilbert had bragged about how easy it had been. He had said they were going to Germany for extended plans, which is what Canada's boss had assumed. Prussia had boasted that he had put a little something in Canada's drink, and Matthew didn't wake up until long after a touchdown in the other country.  
By the time everyone realized something was terribly wrong they had no leads on where Canada could be. His house was abandoned and long since covered in dust when America had gone to check on his little brother.  
Future Prussia would once again brag after the start of the war that Canada was much too easy, and that he'd also acted rather pathetically during the time he'd been a prisoner in Russia. At the start of the war Canada had been A-bombed. Britain and France took the bombings as a sorrowful sign. The bombings had destroyed many of the government buildings and other national treasures. When Canada's government officially crumbled during the occupation by N. Korea, China, New Prussia, and Russia the two fathers' knew that wherever Matthew was he was most likely dead.  
A few days after that Prussia had personally called America. After insulting Alfred on his idiocy Prussia told America the exact latitude and longitude of Matthew's whereabouts. Britain and France had tried everything to keep Alfred from walking into a trap. When it became apparent Alfred was going they had come with him. It had indeed been a trap, but not like the one Britain and France had been worried about. No one interfered when they got to their destination.  
Along the American-Canadian border was Canada's body. It was discarded in the snow like some trash. The battered remains wrapped in a white sheet that didn't hide any of the torture the young nation had gone through. Radiation burns covered more than half of his body. His once beautiful hair was frail and most of it had fallen out due to the radiation poisoning. It was quickly apparent that the body was sickeningly thin and the scars…those were all over.  
It had been a psychological attack and had devastated all of them... no one worse than America. Canada was the first nation that America had lost in such a way. They had laid his brother to rest, but that didn't end the torture.  
To torment Alfred further Gilbert purposefully mailed America tapes of certain times when Canada had been a prisoner. Prussia's plans were to demoralize his enemy. Prussia sent America segments when Canada had been talking out loud and begging his brother to help him or begging the empty room he'd been in that he would be able to talk to any of his family members again or times when Canada was clearly insane with torture and pain and would curse those family members for not helping him then soon after beg them for help again. This psychological warfare had plagued future America ever since the start of WW3.  
And clearly, Prussia's strategy to completely demoralize his enemy with psychological warfare had worked. And it had worked well. One of America's biggest strengths, his fortitude and spirit had crumbled into dust. Completely devastated by the loss, the grief, the crushing guilt of having not protected his brother, it was almost impossible to fight in a war against the Canadian border where Prussia was advancing every single day onto American soil. Having taken over his little brothers country, America found himself face to face with innocent Canadians every time he lifted his gun. After all, what a better way to get more troops, and also ensure your enemy couldn't fight back than to force the men and women of the defeated nation to fight? Alfred found himself in a position of having to choose between protecting America or shooting his deceased little brother's citizens in the face almost every moment of every day.  
It drove him completely mad.

Of course, poor Canada had no way of knowing any of these future events. He squeezed future America's shoulders. Canada's tears were running down his face.  
"Please. Please, Alfred. Please, you're hurt. You're bleeding. I need to help you." Britain ran after his future son. His future spell book in hand.  
"Matthew! He's from the future. This is my book of black magic. He's used a forbidden spell to go back in time!" Britain enlightened the crowd as to what was happening. Matthew stared into his brother's crazed eye. Matthew's own eyes were still horrified.  
"Oh mon dieu. What happened to you? Who hurt you like this? I won't let anyone hurt you like this Alfred. I wouldn't let this happen. I'd protect you." Canada couldn't believe he'd let his brother get into this bad of shape. Sure Alfred could be annoying, but Canada loved his brother. No one messed with his brother. No one. So how had this happened?

The soldier wouldn't be stopped from his mission. Once he spotted Prussia, any distraction that would come his way wouldn't stop him…not even his beloved brother. America knew perfectly well that he only had a few moments left to live. And as much as he would love to spend his last moments with his family, he had made this sacrifice so that they might live in the future. As such…just a bit more heartache was needed, just a bit more suffering. In denying himself the company he so desperately wanted from Matthew, he would fulfill his mission by killing Prussia where he stood…or crawled, like the worm he was.  
And so…as good as a blow to his own heart, he cruelly shoved Matthew aside when he came to try and stop him. Far too wild in his desperate rage for words, he offered no explanation as he then ran out of the room after the country that had destroyed all he'd ever loved, all he'd ever cherished.  
I'll kill him. I will succeed! I must! I have no choice! He raced out into the hall after his quarry. There was a glimpse of white hair that started to disappear behind a corner. Fueled solely on adrenaline and desperation, and numb to his pain from post-traumatic shock, America launched himself after Prussia in a mad dash. Seemingly almost superhuman, and defying his fate, at least for a few more seconds, he rounded the corner and lifted his gun a second time.  
Screaming in a rage, he fired again, but Prussia was ahead of him now and dove into a bedroom. The walls splintered and shattered under the force of the automatic weapon. Paint was reduced to dust as Alfred's hallway was ripped apart by the bullets.  
But as the bullets flew, they eventually ran out. America had used up most of his ammo in the battle he'd just come from, and even an AK47 could run dry. Knowing he had nothing to replenish it with, he dropped it to the floor with a CLUNK. Reaching down to his thighs, he then pulled out a handgun. Starting down the hall, weakened and finally seemingly to start to slow, he staggered down the destroyed passageway. He almost lost his balance once, his shoulder falling against the wall, but with incredible determination, he forced himself upright again and kept going.  
"Come on out you Prussian PIG!" He screamed. Delirious from blood loss and shock, he wasn't sure which room he'd ducked into. As such, he raised his gun as he came across each one, briefly glimpsing inside. "Come out and I'll make it quick and easy! It's far FAR more than you deserve!"  
Breathing was becoming more difficult, but he didn't care.  
I don't need to breathe in order to pull a trigger, he thought. I don't even need all my fingers. Looking into the next room, he found it empty.  
"You like to play games? You like to torture people, hmm? By giving back their little brother after he's DEAD!" Stepping up to the next doorway, he spotted what he was looking for. A dash of white hair was poking out from behind some bedroom curtains.  
America didn't hesitate. He launched himself inside. Moving far more quickly than he should have been able to, he reached the curtain and struck out. Grabbing onto his enemy, he tackled him to the floor. Sitting on top of him, he grabbed his neck, pinning him down with his mutilated left hand. With the right, he jammed his handgun into his forehead. Eyes completely crazed he screamed.  
"I'm sending you to HELL!" He pulled the trigger.  
Click click. A small sound of the metal pin hitting back against nothing plinked into the room instead of the huge explosion of the gunshot the soldier expected.  
America's good eye twitched. He immediately pulled the trigger again, several more times.  
Click, click, click, click, click.  
He was clearly out of bullets, perhaps used up in the last battle he'd fought before he went back in time. His intense face started to change as he realized he had no ammunition left for any of the weapons he carried. Without hesitation, he dropped his gun, then curled both hands around Prussia's neck. He'd strangle him to death if he had to! Barehanded!  
But…as he tried to…he quickly realized that he hadn't the strength. He wouldn't have, even before the leap through time. But now that he'd messed with such a dark spell, and his life was being drained away, he hadn't a hope of calling forth such strength.  
His hands trembled from the effort, but he hardly was even putting much pressure on the ghost nation. Alfred's eyes filled with a sudden onslaught of fresh tears.  
"..n…no. N..o…No! NO! NOO!" But he felt himself fading and he knew it was too late. He'd failed in his mission, and his imminent death was preventing him from carrying it out. And with no reason to push himself forward, with no reason to go on anymore, he almost instantly collapsed.  
He exhaled harshly, then simply gave up his remaining strength. Falling forward, he collapsed on top of his enemy. Hardly even able to move anymore without the inner willpower he'd been using all this time, he cursed himself inwardly for not being able to do a single damned thing right the entire war.  
All the same…he wasn't ready to completely give up yet. If he couldn't do it…if he couldn't carry out the mission, he would find someone else who could. He had to at least warn his family of future events. He had to at least tell Britain the things that had happened. It could still be prevented he was sure. And if he could just tell himself, the past version of America all these things…then…he never would have left Matthew alone for so long. He could have saved him…had he only known.  
And, perhaps more than that…he didn't want to be alone when he died. He wanted, needed his family with him.  
"M…Ma…Matthew…" He called weakly. He wanted to at least look into his brother's face one last time, have his father hold onto him as the darkness crept in. And if he could just tell himself from years past…how important family actually was…well…then maybe he wouldn't have taken advantage of them for most of his life.

"Hold still!" Britain was the first to his former colony's side. "Bloody Hell, Alfred. You've gone barmy! " He reached out pulling Alfred up and off of Prussia and back into his arms. "What the hell has happened? Why are you here?"  
Britain held America firmly in his arms. Arthur was keeping the dying nation upright and secured against his chest. This was quite possibly the most awful thing Arthur had ever felt. True he bickered with America. True he loved to point out Alfred's flaws and lecture him on them, but he loved the nation he'd raised as a son. He surely never wanted to see this! He held Alfred all the tighter. He had to wonder how this future America had even found out about the time traveling spell. Surely his future British self hadn't told America about it. Obviously, this future America was unhinged. How bad could the world be that this was the only answer? But Britain had heard America scream part of the answer while he'd been chasing down Prussia. Arthur held America to his green vest as tightly as he dare and looked to the Prussian standing just across the room.  
"Alfred. What did you mean? What do you mean Prussia likes to torture people? What do you mean your little brother died? What happened? Tell me, love."

Prussia crawled away from the two. He was in shock as well. Not to mention being chased by a crazed America was enough to scare the shit out of anyone, but the things America was saying were equally as horrid.  
"Ze awezome me would n-never." His red eyes went to Matthew, but he didn't approach his boyfriend.

Then Matthew was there standing a few feet in front of his downed brother. Matthew looked at Prussia in shock and horror then he went to Alfred's side. Matthew looked at Britain with a look of utter terror. He was trying to ask if his brother would be ok, but Britain shook his head no. Matthew immediately understood what was taking place.  
"M-mon dieu…" Matthew reached out putting his hands onto either side of Alfred's face. The tears were leaking out of his eyes again, but he tried to wipe them away.  
"H-hey bro. Oh mon Dieu s'il vous plaît ne faites pas cela." (Oh God, Please don't do this.) He found himself defaulting back to his first language in times of stress, and surely nothing would ever be more stressful than this. Of course Alfred could find comfort in his brother's French. It was something that was unique to Matthew. France always had a serious translation lisp whenever he spoke English, but Matthew could speak either language just fine.  
Matthew gently kept his hands on America's dying face. He stared into his brother's eyes now that future America wasn't rampaging around and destroying the house while simultaneously trying to kill Prussia.  
"I- I don't understand Alfred. I-I don't get it." He had heard what his brother had said, but he couldn't grasp it. What had Alfred meant by saying his little brother died? Canada felt fine. He wouldn't just die. He was a nation. How could that be? How was his death Prussia's fault? Alfred had talked about having guilt upstairs. He'd been apologizing for failing. Canada's eyebrows knit together.  
"Alfred. I would never blame you for-for something you couldn't control. I- I love you, brother. It's ok. I would never hate you. No matter what."

The dying country smiled, but even his grin didn't make him resemble the country he once was. This smile had far too much melancholy behind it to belong to the America everyone currently knew. He lifted a hand. It shook due to his fading strength but had managed to gently touch Canada's cheek all the same.  
"You've always been…so sweet at heart…such a…kind country…" He wanted more time. More time to spend with his father and brother. But he knew that even this would be stolen from him. He didn't have time. He was dying. He could feel it inside. And with what time he had left, he knew he had to make them understand.  
"Matthew…listen…" he said, his voice already losing its edge. "Don't let Prussia into your heart. Don't…please. He…he betrays us. He takes you away. He takes you to Russia and Russia holds you there while Prussia takes over your country…" America's face twisted in on itself. His expression crumpled at the mere memory of it.  
"They…they bomb everything…and..and…you…you died…" Tears rolled down, carving clean trails through the muck and grime on his face. "He gave you back to me after you were dead…just to break me." His hand fell away from his twin's face as he turned his head away, squeezing his one good eye shut from the horror of his memories.  
"Of course…once he had Canada for his own…he came after me. We…started world war three. I…had Britain and France, and Japan on my side but…Russia and China and North Korea were helping Prussia. We seemed evenly matched for a while…but Prussia…Prussia sure is good at fucking with people. He started sending me videos of you… from when you were held, prisoner…in Russia. I…I couldn't…I…I just want…wanted.."  
But he really didn't need to finish. The message was clear enough. He turned his face into Arthur's chest, burying his face.  
"Dad…" And that must have been a strange thing for everyone to hear. America hadn't called Britain 'dad' since he was a little boy. "Dad…don't let him…don't let Prussia near Matt. He…disappears…right after my birthday of this upcoming year. We…we…we never see him again! Please…d..don't…let him…"  
Alfred was starting to fade and he was fading fast. His breathing very suddenly became very labored. Wheezing, a strange, unnatural liquid-like sound could be heard coming from inside him. And a second later, blood could be seen between his lips.

Matthew's eyes widened even further. All the blood was quickly draining from his face. His heart was racing so fast he thought it would explode in his chest. This was too much.  
"A-Alfred." Matthew reached out and wiped the blood away from his dying brother's mouth. "St-stop talking, Alfred. S-save your strength. Pl-please." His eyes welled up once more and he reached out carefully wrapping his arms around his brother. He held him, pressing his forehead against Alfred's shoulder, "I'll be ok, Al. I promise. I love you so much." He held his dying brother as tightly as he dared.  
Britain's green eyes narrowed. He had been wary of the albino country since he'd first found Gilbert with Matthew. Now Arthur was downright furious. The nostalgia of being called dad welling within him as his son lay dying. Alfred hadn't said those words since long before the revolutionary war. Even then it had been rare. Britain looked down at his two sons. How dare the albino bastard cause any action that would lead to this horrible fate! Britain moved his left arm and laid it around America and latched onto Canada holding onto him tightly. He was afraid Canada would vanish then and there.  
"It's ok Alfred. I will not let him hurt your brother. I have Matthew. I will not let him disappear. Alfred, you're saying Prussia betrays Matthew, and Prussia kills your brother? Y- you came back to keep that from happening?" Even if all that was true there were so many questions up in the air. Arthur had been afraid Prussia would sleep around on Matthew, but to betray, kidnap, and kill his second son? That had never crossed Britain's mind. Not in his wildest dreams. Gilbert take over Canada? What the hell kind of future was this?  
"Wh-when do they bomb Canada, Alfred?" Britain quickly asked his dying son. Prussia wasn't a country so obviously, one of the other countries would have had to do the bombings, "Which one was it? Who was behind the attack? Was that Russia? Who bombed Canada?"

Alfred turned his attention back to his father. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to speak. His chest was growing heavy, but he knew Arthur was the most reliable in the group. He had to answer.  
"R…Russia…Russia…is behind most…all of it…" he answered. And of course, in looking at his father's worried face, emotion for him welled up inside all over again. He knew, he had to apologize to him too before he died.  
"I'm..s…so sorry dad. I…y…you told me not to take your book…th…that you…couldn't…bear to lose me too…af..after…Matthew. But…you…you didn't understand…that.I..I…was already dead…" More blood bubbled up from his lips, garbing his words. But even in death, he wasn't going to let it stop him.  
"Pr…Prussia…was…at…New York's door just before I left…in…fact…I'm not…even sure if it's the curse that's killing me…or…if…P…Prussia…" His voice trailed off. He saw the understanding in Arthur's eyes. He didn't need to finish. Feeling his life slip away from him, he knew he only had seconds left. His vision fading along with the rest of him, he lifted his eyes to the room's doorway.  
Standing there, and having been there the entire time, was the current day's America. He'd followed his family but hadn't set foot into the tomb. He'd seen everything, heard every word. But he was in far too much shock to move or speak. He could barely keep up with what was happening. It was so overwhelming. It just couldn't be true. None of it could possibly be true. Clearly, he'd seen one too many Hollywood movies. Because things like this simply didn't happen in real life. That man, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood couldn't actually be America.  
America was invincible. Everyone knew that. Nothing and no one could ever take down America. He couldn't die. There was no way. And all this stuff about Canada? He didn't believe that either. He couldn't. Because…as much as he liked to act carefree and like everything was always a party, he knew perfectly well that Matthew and Arthur were all he really had (other than himself of course.) Being a jokester and a partier and even an ass from time to time kept things lively and fun. It kept away things like sadness, or worry or even fear. It kept him sane when things like a fiscal cliff were drawing near. And so…to see America presented in the way he was…defeated…and not just defeated…but apparently, driven to near madness from grief and violence…it was too much.  
Alfred didn't know how to function in a stressful environment without jokes or a lighthearted attitude. He'd often felt it was in fact, his job to make sure none of the other countries got too serious about matters either. And if people could just laugh about things and about one another…well…then a future like this…could never…  
"You…" Alfred lifted his head from the thoughts he'd been having as he stood in the room's doorway. Looking out, he saw the soldier, the one dying in Arthur's arms staring straight at him. And that one blue eye of his…was heavy…and terrible.  
"You…" he croaked again, licking his bloodied lips. "Don't…be like…me." Alfred stared at him, his heart feeling suddenly freezing cold with dread. All the same, it didn't stop the dying nation from speaking. "You…protect Matthew. You…you must…do what I couldn't…y…you…you finish the job."  
Alfred felt his limbs grow cold along with his heart. His blue eyes widened with the weight of the request that was suddenly laid upon him. The burden was sudden and heavy and dooming. And it terrified him. He felt himself start to tremble. The stranger before him locked eyes with him and for a moment, he felt the connection. There was no denying it now. There was no way in heaven or hell that this man wasn't him. Alfred knew that it was. He could see the reflection of himself in his eyes. He could see the ghost that he once was. And that, was perhaps, the most terrifying thing of all.  
The light in the soldier's eyes started to fade. He lay his head back down in Arthur's arms. Staring up at the ceiling, it became clear that he was now looking at something far beyond the house they were all in, and ever farther still than just America the country, or even the world. With the last of his life, he grabbed onto Matthew with his good hand. He gripped him, almost desperately. But it only lasted a second. For after that, his hand fell slack along with the rest of his body. And as soon as he was gone and had finally given up the fight, he relaxed and fell limply in his families arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
My Brother

For several long, torturous seconds, it was silent. The weight of such silence weighed on them all. Only the soft ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard, and the slight 'plip' 'plip' of the dead man's blood which still dripped to the carpeted floor. But then a new sound was introduced to the room. The remaining America suddenly started breathing quickly, and deeply. He took in air viciously through his teeth. And only a few seconds later, he was hyperventilating. Covered in a cold sweat, he stared at his own body, lying dead in his family's arms. His body shuddered, and a second later, he opened his mouth and screamed.

Horrified beyond anything he ever imagined, it was all he could really do. It shattered the silence of the moment, giving voice to something everyone in the room was feeling. His scream lasted several seconds before dying away. Once it did, he stood frozen for only a few seconds more, staring at his own demise. But then, with a trembling hand, he reached beneath his jacket. And pulling it out, he had a gun firmly gripped in his palm. Lifting it, he aimed it at Prussia who was standing just as shocked as everyone else on the other side of the room. Although America had drawn a weapon, it was clear that he was completely torn about what it was he should do. Holding the grip with both palms to try and steady his sight, the gun still shivered and trembled along with the rest of him. All the same, he kept the muzzle pointed at the foreign country, sucking air in hysterically through his teeth.

Prussia turned to stare wide-eyed at America. He had nothing to say. His eyes were huge and haunted. He didn't believe the things the dead America had said. How could he? Why would he betray Matthew? Gilbert raised his hands into the air in an 'I surrender' pose and stayed that way. He didn't try to run. He was in too much denial for that. He had no reason to run.

"The awezome me would never do that! I love Matthew!" He announced to the room. He never imagined having to confess that to his boyfriend's family under these circumstances.

Britain held the body of his dead son, and he held onto Matthew as well. He was still in shock, but things had to be done. Matthew was clutching his dead brother and sobbing into his body. Of course, the chap would be overwhelmed. Who could describe this kind of shitty day? When you found out your boyfriend, of 4 hours would in his family's eyes, would ultimately betray and kill you. Watching a future version of your brother die? It was inconceivable. As much as a part of Britain was telepathically willing Alfred to simply pull the trigger another part of him was thinking better of it. Germany could take a lot of things, but Arthur was pretty sure if they sent Gilbert home beaten to a pulp and shot full of holes inside of a box for a crime he had yet to commit there would be hell to pay. Germany loved his older brother like Matthew and Alfred loved each other. As such they couldn't outright shoot the damned albino. They would quickly have a war on their hands, and they'd be at fault. No one believed in black magic anymore. No one would believe this story. They would think America had simply murdered Prussia for no good reason in cold blood.

"Alfred." Britain's voice cracked on the word. He was somewhat afraid his living son would vanish. He also didn't want to startle the terrified country by speaking too loudly or by saying the wrong thing.

Collecting himself Britain pushed himself onward through his emotions, "Alfred. Put the gun down. Listen to me, love. Put it down."

He carefully unwrapped his arm from the dead America and reached out towards the living Alfred. God. He thought as he saw his blood covered hands. It was all over him now, and Matthew who was clutching his dead brother was covered in it as well.

"Alfred. Put the gun down." Britain said gently, but firmly.

Before another word could be uttered Alfred was startled out of his thoughts as another familiar voice came from the hallway outside the room and from behind Alfred. France had received a text the previous day from his son. Matthew had texted him asking about opinions on love. When the French man had heard that Matthew, Arthur, Alfred, and Gilbert were under one roof he couldn't wait to come to the house party. He had expected to argue with Britain, harass America, tease Matthew on love, and goof off with his old friend. He never expected to find America's home filled with bullet holes. He was shocked by the state of the hallway. He had heard Matthew wailing from outside and had run in to find this…this hell.

He could see America standing in the doorway of a room where he could hear Matthew crying and Arthur speaking. The Frenchman dropped the wine he'd brought to the floor as he stared at Alfred's back. He could tell Alfred had a gun. Francis quickly called out,  
"Oh mon Dieu. Ce qui s'est passé en Amérique?" (Oh my God. What has happened, America?)

Then he quickly called out to Arthur who he had heard, but not seen. "Angleterre! What is happening?"

"Amerique." France took a step towards the superpower. Each step into the room let him see more of what was taking place. He saw America's gun trained on Prussia. Francis held his hand out towards Alfred, "What are you doing?"

America, rightfully so, was rather unsteady at the moment. Watching himself die, and hearing about a future so horrific, he wouldn't have even dreamed Hell could be so wretched, made him desperate to prevent any of it from taking place. Before America from the future had arrived, Alfred had just been telling Matthew that he'd take care of him, protect him. That if Gilbert ever did anything to upset him, he'd do what any good big brother would do, and he'd go beat him senseless. But…he never imagined something like this. He never could have imagined kidnapping, torture, bombings, death… Alfred had never imagined that anything at all could ever really, truly happen to either Canada or America.

Both countries were so strong. He'd always had faith that they could survive anything. No election, no hurricane, no revolution or civil war or great depression or anything had ever taken the brothers down. They were young as far as countries went…but both had participated in several wars. A few too many in fact…for both of their tastes. But…they had always survived. Together. To see it all crumble before him, to see himself die, to hear of Matthew dying…it was too much.  
And so, hands shaking, he kept his gun fixated on Prussia. An older version of himself had given him specific instructions. And that older version of America was so intense, so much more intimidating than Alfred ever thought he could be…he felt compelled to do as he wished. He'd died for this. He'd sacrificed himself for this so that everyone else might live. That America…even though only a few years older…had seemed so much stronger, so much wiser…so much more than what he was now. Alfred couldn't help but think he had to have known what he was doing. If this was the only way…and he passed that responsibility onto him…then…

"Alfred. Put the gun down." Came the soft, familiar voice from his left. "Listen to me, love. Put it down." America inhaled deeply, taking in a shuddered, frightened breath. He wanted to listen to Arthur. He really did. But…he couldn't erase the intensity he'd felt when he'd locked eyes with America. He couldn't erase that feeling of desperation he'd felt from him. He was vaguely aware that Britain was carefully and slowly approaching him, but he dared not tear his gaze away from Prussia.

"Alfred. Put the gun down." Britain said gently, but firmly. America trembled in place, torn between shooting Prussia, and causing a war that he knew would come with Germany…or letting him live and then possibly losing Matt. No! I won't ever lose Matt like that! Not the way that America described! I won't ever let that happen! I won't I won't! And just as he thought he'd convinced himself to do it, he heard another familiar voice come up from behind him. It was French. And obviously, it belonged to France. Now he was surrounded on both sides by both parents. Although Alfred had always been more attached to Arthur rather than Francis, France was still a big part of his upbringing. He couldn't help but to hesitate with him suddenly being present.

Since Francis was approaching from behind, America couldn't see his outstretched hand. Covered in sweat, he still didn't move, torn between extreme courses of action. It wasn't until France gently placed a hand on his shoulder that he flinched at the sudden contact. With a startled cry, he accidentally pulled the trigger, and the gun went off. The shot rang out deafening everyone present once more.

Thankfully, because he'd flinched, his aim was off and a hole appeared in the wall just a few inches from Prussia's head. Matthew screamed.  
But as soon as the ringing in his ears started to settle, America knew he couldn't follow through with it. If he was trying to prevent a war…was starting one really the answer? And…Matthew. He looked at him. He looked so terrified, hunched over America's body. He was crying…and covered with blood. Alfred could hardly stand it. And he knew…that if he were to kill Prussia…he certainly could never do it in front of his little bro. He'd been through enough. And as his bog brother…it was his job to protect him.  
Letting out a rush of air, America lowered his gun. Holding it out, he firmly placed it into Arthur's outstretched hand. Then he simply stood, breathing for a moment to get himself under control.

Arthur took the gun and quickly put the safety on. Then he shoved the weapon into the loop of his belt. He closed the distance to his son and threw his arms around Alfred squeezing him horrendously tight. He held the slightly larger nation to his chest and took in a shuddering breath. He had to remind himself that his son was still alive.

Alfred was still absorbing all of the shock too, but even as unbelievable and horrifying as everything was, when Arthur came to him, throwing his arms around him, he seemed to unfreeze a bit. Not normally the touchy-feely type, for a moment like this, he could have cared less. He threw his arms around his mother figure, giving him a big, tight, very painful squeeze. He didn't say a word and didn't have to. It was good just to feel his heartbeat.

"I'm fine…" he reassured the older country. After their hug, Britain stepped away from the doorway of the room pulling Alfred with him so France could enter. He looked over his shoulder every now and then keeping an eye on Prussia who was simply standing still. France stepped into the room his eyes growing large at the sight before him. France looked to Gilbert who was standing off by himself with a bullet hole next to him. Then he looked across the room and down to his blood covered son, and was that America? On the floor? Was he dead?

"Angleterre?" France said Britain's name as a question, "Did your black magic have anything to do with this?" France had known Britain all his life. A few boggled up spells had happened within that time. He prayed this was another one of those weird spells acting up because there was such a feeling of horror, dread, and sorrow in the room that was almost palpable. Seeing America dead on the floor was too disturbing to put into words.

"Get Matthew." Britain said to France, "We need to get them out of here. We can take them to Alfred's room, but for God's sake keep them together and keep Prussia away." Arthur didn't want to let either nation out of his sight or to separate them in any way. Arthur had a feeling that getting Matthew away from his dead brother would be close to impossible, but it had to be done.

France had gone to his blood covered son in horror. He spoke in French and tried to calm Matthew out of his hysterics, but he eventually had to pull Matthew away from his dead brother kicking and screaming. The smaller of the two twins could put up a hell of a fight. France kept talking to Matthew as he tried to pull him away. Eventually, he said something with a very firm tone and reached out grabbing Matthew. He wasn't trying to be mean, but he did have to force his son to turn away from the dead body on the floor and look at his living brother in the doorway. Matthew stared at normal Alfred with a hollow look. His eyes were dull from shock and sorrow. The shock to his system was making him mostly numb, but Matthew did see Alfred standing. Alive. Unhurt.

It only took a moment before Matthew tore away from his father. He pushed himself up off the floor and took a very shaky step towards his brother. His body trembled uncontrollably as adrenaline started to drain from his system. He had barely taken a few steps when everything went black. The shock pushed him over the edge and he hit the floor, completely unconscious. Nothing in his wildest dreams could have prepared him for a moment like this, and it was far too much for the kind-hearted nation.

"Matthieu!" France cried and went to move towards his son.  
Prussia went to step towards his fallen boyfriend as well a look of worry etched into his face, but Britain quickly pulled America's gun from his belt. He aimed it level at the albino's head. Unlike his son, he didn't shake in the least. Britain had been a pirate, an executioner, and led one too many dark events in his time to let his fear show through here.  
"Do not go anywhere near him you arsehole. I will not miss." Britain warned.

Alfred was still absorbing all of the shocks too, but even as unbelievable and horrifying as everything was, he was in better shape than his brother. He had, unfortunately, suffered a lot of violence over his short life span. Perhaps he was a bit more numb to it. Or maybe, he was just that good at pushing upsetting things aside so that he could function when need be. All the same, it didn't stop the jolt of fear that zipped through his heart when Matthew fainted and fell to the floor.

"Mattie!" Alfred was at his side in a heartbeat, already horrified that he was somehow hurt, that something had happened. "Bro!" He fell to his knees, then reached out, scooping him up into his strong arms with ease. He cradled him, firmly, holding him to himself possessively. His little brother looked horrid. He was smeared with blood. My blood? It was such a strange thing…seeing his own blood, smelling it…but not being injured. Alfred reached out a hand, smoothing Matthew's tangled hair. He was pale, and sweaty, and looked ill from the shock. Looking up, to make sure they were safe, he saw that Arthur had Prussia at bay with his gun. Knowing he had to get Matt out of there, Alfred slowly stood, still keeping an iron grip on his little brother. Then, carefully, he started to back out of the violent room, keeping his eyes on his future enemy. Stepping past France and into the hall, he remained only for a second, looking at the room around him, then he turned away and ran back down the hall with his brother.

He raced down the hall and to the stairwell. There was no way he was ever going to put Matt in a bedroom on the second floor ever again. And for that matter, he wasn't sure if he'd ever set foot on the second floor himself until the day he died. His mind going further still, he toyed with the idea of demolishing it as he raced down the stairs. And once on the first-floor landing, he looked out around himself and immediately felt better.

This was his house. Normal. So normal looking. Nothing was destroyed. There were no bullet holes, or blood, or crazy dead versions of himself from the future. This was just…his house. And it was so normal in fact that Alfred briefly wondered if he'd just had some strange mind trip, perhaps left over from the 60's when he used to do drugs.  
But looking down to his brother told him it wasn't so. His blood was still all over him.

He can't wake up with that stuff still on him…he'll freak again… Alfred thought. And so, quickly, he came to a conclusion about a course of action. Moving a bit more calmly now, but his heart still racing, he stepped over to the nearest bathroom. His house was huge and he had several. Stepping inside, he then closed and locked the door behind him…mainly because he was still scared. Calming down a bit, yes…but Prussia was still in his house. And he wanted nothing more than to make sure Matthew was safe.

"I'll take care of you little bro. Just like I promised," Alfred said to him. "I won't let anything happen to you…that's what big brothers are for." Looking around, he spotted his bathmat which was fairly plush and expensive. He bought a lot of expensive things, even considering his country was six trillion dollars in debt. Gently, he crouched down and lay Matt down on top of it. Letting him go so he could examine him, he looked him over quickly. He was fairly dirty, and Alfred knew he couldn't really clean him up whilst saving his pajamas. But…of course…he didn't have a change of clothes for him in here.

Well, I can't leave him like this… Alfred thought to himself. Coming to another quick conclusion, America decided to remove his clothes and clean him up anyway. He was his brother and they'd grown up taking baths together. It was no big deal. Besides…he knew if positions were reversed, Matt would do the same for him, and no one else other than maybe Arthur would have been acceptable.  
Twenty minutes or so later, Canada was clean and fully covered in a soft robe which Alfred had found in the linen closet. He'd wrapped him up tightly, then proceeded to sit down on the floor, pressing his back into the corner by the tub. He'd scooped Matthew back up into his arms and was now clutching him possessively all over again with his original iron grip.

The plan had been to leave the bathroom and take him to one of the downstairs guest rooms where he could rest comfortably in a bed…but now…the idea of leaving the bathroom at all seemed so dangerous. Alfred didn't know where Prussia was at the moment. And he found himself suddenly very worried about both of his fathers.  
Prussia was just a ghost nation, right? He couldn't hurt Britain or France…right? But there was suddenly so much doubt and fear. Alfred never had imagined a world where America could be taken down after all. And yet… He held Matthew to himself all the tighter.

"I'll keep you safe bro," he said again. "I'm right here, and I'm fine. Please wake up." He really, really wanted Matthew to wake up. He wanted to see his eyes open and hear his shy, timid, voice. It was the only way he'd know he was really all right. He wanted to reassure him of everything. He wanted to show him that he was alive and well and whole. And once Matt saw how alive and strong he still was, he'd feel safe, right? America was certain he could keep him safe. The other Alfred from the future was wrong. He must have done something crazy and stupid to have let something so awful happen. Well, that's not gunna be me! Alfred thought. I'll never let Matt outta my sight!

Britain held the gun on Prussia for much longer than was needed. He had to work past his rage in order to take the gun off of the albino. Eventually, he put the weapon at his side, but Arthur kept it armed in his hand for security. Britain had filled France in on everything. He recounted everything in great detail while Prussia stayed still and silent. Something that a few hours ago France would have thought was impossible for the albino.

In the end, France covered the future America's body with a sheet. France wanted this future America to be laid to rest with proper honors. Seeing as Britain was busy glaring at Prussia, France decided it would be best if he laid the body on a bed until they could hold a proper funeral. Eventually, France took charge of Prussia. They couldn't have Prussia anywhere near anything or anyone at the moment. Not wanting to stay in the tomb Francis and Gilbert went downstairs and to a different room altogether. Francis and Gilbert were friends, but France would never allow harm to come to his son. Not even from his old world friend. With France guarding Prussia, Britain felt it was safe and went after his two sons. He needed to see them. So he searched the house until he came across a closed and locked bathroom door.

In the bathroom Matthew wa,s starting to come around. He felt strong, warm arms wrapped around his body. Matthew could tell that it was Alfred before he heard his brother's voice say, "I'll keep you safe bro."  
Alfred's voice sounded slower and much quieter than the way he normally spoke. It also sounded more sincere. In fact Matthew had never heard his brother sound so sincere. Matthew's head was fuzzy, but he did feel safe and warm. The entire trauma from upstairs was pushed into one of the far crevices of his mind and he was confused. Why was Alfred saying, "I'm right here, and everything's fine. Please wake up?"

Why does he sound like that? Matthew thought to himself.  
Pushing passed the fog in his head Canada whispered, "Al…". His quiet voice was also hoarse from all the abuse it had been suffering. He opened his eyes slowly. They were red from crying, and slightly hazy from the shock he'd experienced, but he would recover. Matthew reached up grabbing a hold of his brother. Alfred was right there and suddenly seeing this Alfred's face made his memories resurface. He remembered the other America. He quickly put his hand on Alfred's face. His fingers traced along Alfred's head. His brother had hair, and two eyes, his skin was a normal color, he was slightly larger from eating one too many burgers, and there was no hint of injury. Matthew could feel, touch, and talk to his brother. No Blood. Alfred wasn't dead.

Matthew's blue eyes went to examine his own hand. It was clean. There was no blood. Was that all a dream? Please say it had all been a dream. Then he looked around. He was in a bathrobe on the floor in his brother's bathroom. His eyes landed on his old, bloody pile of clothes that were discarded in the trash bin. He felt his heart rate pick up as he pushed his feet on the tile of the bathroom and pushed himself back against his brother. He grabbed a hand full of Alfred's hair. He wasn't trying to hurt him, but he wanted to keep a hold of him. It was the first thing he could clutch.

"A-A-Alf-Alfred" He stuttered horridly on his brother's name. "That wa- was- that was a dream. It was a dream right. I hi-hit my head. Gilbert hit me in the head a few days a-ago. This is second impact syndrome. Right? O-or I'm crazy?" He squeezed Alfred's hair tighter as the tears started to come back to his eyes.  
A part of him was relieved. Oh so relieved. His brother was there with him. Alfred was alive, but all that had happened. All that future America had said came flooding back to him and it hurt. His second hand went to his chest clutching the fabric of the bathrobe. It really hurt. He bit his bottom lip as tears started to reappear in his eyes. He never knew his heart could hurt this much and still keep beating.

Alfred was so incredibly relieved when Matthew started to wake up, so relieved when he said his name, and so relieved when he saw his indigo colored eyes start to open.  
"Bro," he said happily, his usual smile returning. But that was until Matthew fully came around, and suddenly seemed very upset and scared all over again. And then he grabbed onto Alfred's golden hair.  
"A-Ah! Oww! Ouch! Dude! I-stop!" Matthew grabbed on even tighter still. Alfred, not daring to ever let him go in the state he was in, and also needing to keep a firm hold onto his brother for his own sanity, instead just tilted his head down to try and relieve some of the pressure. Canada pulled his head down further still until he was stuck, crouched against his bathroom wall.

Alfred hissed in pain, and tears sprang into his eyes from the sting of it, but he didn't try to pull out of Matthews grasp. He knew he needed him.  
"M-Matt, man…dude! Ouch!" Holding onto his brother in what he hoped was a comforting way, despite the abuse he was suffering, he tried to figure out a way to calm him down.  
"Bro, it wasn't a dream. We had a pretty fucked up day. But…it's ok! Really. Ya know why? Because I'm right here. And if I'm here, then…all that future stuff hasn't happened yet. None of that stuff that that me from the future talked about is ever gunna happen. Ok? I'm not that guy. That guy wasn't me. I'm here and I'm fine and I'm alive and strong and as awesome as always!" He tried to flash a smile through his wince.  
"I'm not like that guy. I'm going to protect you and keep you safe. I'm your big bro man! That's what big bro's are for. Yeah? So you don't have to worry about any of that crazy stuff that just happened. Ok?" He winced again, hissing from the pain.  
"…uh…dude. If you're feeling better…could you…let go of my hair? It really hurts!"

Matthew slowly told his hand to let go of Alfred's hair. He sniffed once and brought his second hand down to grab at the cloth of the bath robe. He took in a shaky breath, but then thought about what his brother was saying. None of it was a dream. So he had to face the facts of what his future brother had said.  
At least his brother seemed to be gaining some semblance of normalcy again. Alfred was starting to talk like he always had, with that Hero complex. Well at least he didn't have to worry about his brother. That was one weight off of his chest.  
Matthew also had to face the mind numbing facts about his boyfriend. Of all the things his future brother had said future America would have had no way of knowing that he'd already been too late to keep certain things from happening.

Matthew had already let Gilbert into his heart. He'd been hanging out with the albino nation for a year or so now. He wouldn't have kept seeing him in all that time if he hadn't enjoyed it. It had been just that morning when Matthew realized how much he enjoyed the albino's company. When Gilbert said he would leave and never come back if Matthew wanted that. Well he didn't want that. He had said he didn't want that, but here it was being thrown back in his face like a bucket of ice water. It made his insides squirm and his heart break to hear that someone he cared about had betrayed him in such a way. Someone he loved had ultimately killed him.  
He loved his family to be sure. He'd die for any of his family members, but he was like the outsider even within his family. They were all outgoing, vibrant, and spent a lot of time together and with others. In all honesty Alfred generally went to Arthur more than he came to Matthew. Matthew had finally found someone who he fit with. Someone who always knew his name, damn it! Someone who never treated him like he was invisible! Someone who had never tried to take over his nation by burning down his capital, FUCK! Matthew reached up grabbing his own pounding head.

"What am I supposed to do?" He asked the air. He wasn't speaking to Alfred, but he was sure his brother would have an answer.  
Luckily Alfred didn't have time to answer because Britain started knocking on the bathroom door.  
"Alfred. Matthew. Are you in there?" He tried the doorknob, but it was locked, "Can you open the door please?"

"Uhh…" Alfred mumbled, not really sure what to say to either Britain or Matthew. He rubbed his scalp, which had finally been released, but was still pounding. "Dude…you messed my amber waves of grain…"  
He rubbed it just a bit more, then tried to figure out what he should do. He looked to Canada. He was still so upset. Alfred wanted to fix it and make it better for him…but…had no idea what to tell him. Matthew had that expression on again. The one he wore earlier in the day that let Alfred know for sure that he had true feelings for Prussia.

"Well shit," he mumbled. Then they couldn't just kick Prussia to the curb like he wanted? "Uhh…umm…well…we could…uh…" Britain knocked on the door a second time, this time much more insistently. Alfred sighed heavily.  
"Oh my God keep your pants on Arty!" He called. America's main concern was still his little brother. "Matt, are you ready to face mom? I could keep you in here longer if you need me to." He grinned mischievously, he was always happy to tease Britain a little bit. And in all honestly, if the mood didn't lighten up soon…well…Alfred didn't know how to handle such tense situations otherwise.

Britain was tired of waiting. With a few lock-picking moves that he'd learned in his yesteryears, Britain let himself into the bathroom. As he pushed the door open he mumbled something about cheap modern locks. Then he stepped into the bathroom and studied his two former colonies. America looked to be coming around, but Canada still seemed lost. Arthur let out a heavy sigh and came to kneel in front of the two.

He reached out putting his hand on Matthew's head, "There we are. You will be ok, love. "

He gently set his hand in Matthew's hair and ruffled it up, "Come on you two. Let's get out of here and go to the living room. France is watching the albino bastard. We won't see him." He gently ran his hand through Matthew's hair, but he recognized the look on the Northern twins face, "Oh God…. This is a disaster. Who am I kidding? " Britain stared at America. His thick eyebrows furrowing together, "What did you say to him?"

Alfred lifted his eyes to Arthur from his spot on his bathroom floor, "I told him…everything would be fine," he answered truthfully. "That I'm right here, I'm fine. And none of that future stuff has happened yet. So…and I'll protect him…" But it had been a rather touching moment with his little brother, and it was suddenly hard to repeat to his mother figure without feeling embarrassed. Cheeks pinkening just a tad, he quickly moved to get up.

"Well whatever. All we have to do is make sure Prussia doesn't go ape shit right?" Having never let go of Matt, Alfred stood up, whilst holding onto his shoulders. He helped him to his feet, but even then wouldn't release him. It was clear that even though he may have been 'talking the talk' as he usually did, his actions were somewhat different from what they once were.  
"Bro, you wanna sit on the couch or something? You need some coffee?"

"None of that horrible imported stuff you bought from Columbia." Britain interjected, "I'm sure he wants tea anyway." Britain stood up as well and walked with the two brothers to the living room.

Canada didn't rightly care where he went. He walked with Alfred to the living room and sat down on the much more comfy couch. Alfred sat on one side and Arthur on the other. Matthew felt a bit odd being the center of attention, and he remained silent once he was on the couch. Britain leaned forward looking over at Matthew.  
"Canada. You've been here for about a week now. How much longer until you have to go back home?" Canada didn't respond. In fact he didn't do anything until Britain put his hand on his shoulder drawing him back out of his thoughts. Canada blinked and looked over at him.

"I… uh…. My boss was yelling at me last night. I need to leave by tomorrow. I have to be back working the day after. I can get my mind off of all this stuff at least." He reached up running his hand through his hair to get it back the way he wanted it.  
Britain nodded, "We should call Germany to come escort Prussia home. I want him to be watched all the way back. America. Are you ok with that? We should explain the situation openly. I believe we can trust Ludwig to watch his brother."

America nodded firmly. He felt like they could trust Germany too. The country was a lot more levelheaded in this day and age then he used to be. Besides, if what future America said was right, then it meant Germany really had no idea anything was going on until much later after Canada had been taken over. If that was the case, Alfred imagined Germany would want to stop his brother from ever doing something so drastic. No country wanted to piss off America, England, and France all in one go. They were rather formidable, well maybe not France... Another reason America was having a hard time ever believing they could lose a war.  
"Yeah," he agreed. "He'd probably help us keep an eye on that crazy psycho." Then he glanced at Canada once more. "If Mattie has to go back home so soon…then I'm going with him."

Britain blinked at Alfred's response, "You have been sick for a week now. We have all been here for it. America you cannot afford to skip out on your work. Your boss will have your arse."

"It's ok, Al." Canada turned to his brother and smiled in a sad, broken way. He was obviously still upset by his boyfriend's future betrayal and his and Alfred's future death, "Don't worry, Al. I'll be fine." He laughed a bit, "You haven't been to my house all year." Then Canada tried to remember the last time Alfred had come by his home. And why had he come? America always complained Canada's home was too small and cold and dull and too Canadian. When was the last time then? Canada shrugged his shoulders.  
"Now it's getting close to winter. You hate the cold and you'll complain the whole time."

"I don't care about all that," America objected, then quickly crossed his arms over his chest. "You seriously think I'm gunna let you just…go home and disappear into that ice land of yours after the story we just heard? Dude, no. Who do you take me for, hmm? You think my promises aren't serious? I just told you, I'm going to protect you. My boss will just have to get along without me for a little while." And man, if there was ever a time that America seemed serious, it was now.

Britain's green eyes grew larger. This was not good. America was a lot of things, but perhaps one of his worst qualities was his damn stubborn streak. Britain would have to hope that after being with his brother for a few days America would come home.  
Canada stared at his brother. He blinked a few times and then let a genuine smile take over his face.  
"I know Alfred. I know you'll protect me. I have never doubted you." He smirked, "Except that one time, but I forgave you for that a long time ago." He reached out and gently punched his brother on his shoulder. Then slowly he stood up on his own two feet, "I'm thirsty. I'll go make tea for everybody."  
"Mattieu." France came walking down the hall. Prussia wasn't with him, but France said something to his son in a language that Alfred and Britain couldn't understand.  
"Papa. Non." Matthew rolled his eyes and shot a look his first fathers way that said he wasn't amused.  
"What are you saying to him, FROG? Aren't you supposed to be watching someone?" Britain shot a glare at France.

America was immediately on his feet, his blue eyes wide.  
"Where the hell is that freak?" He asked, his voice a bit higher in pitch than it should have been, betraying the fact that perhaps he was still a bit more shaken than he was letting on. Not knowing where Prussia had gone to, he instead ran back over to his brother's side, standing by him protectively once more.  
"I'll come with you to make that tea, bro," he said. "Arty, why don't you give Ludwig a buzz? Francis…do whatever the hell you want…"

France came over to his wavy-haired son and stood in front of him. Once again France was talking in that abominable language Alfred couldn't follow.  
"Papa…. I don't want to talk to Gilbert right now…. Please… Tell him I'm thinking, but I'm not angry. Just really confused. Tell him we can talk later." Matthew said quietly under his breath. France understood. He reached out and patted Matthew's head then went back off down the hallway.

Britain just stared at them from his place on the couch, but he didn't say anything. Finally he got up and left for the phone. He couldn't keep Prussia and Canada apart. In truth letting the two talk while the entire family was here was probably for the best so Britain wouldn't interfere when the time came.  
Britain picked up the phone and was soon dialing the German nation across the sea. How to start this conversation? Can you please come pick up your Prussian?


End file.
